


your heart on the line

by luftballons99



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Angst, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Gore, Non-Linear Narrative, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Kurapika, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Pining, Post-Canon, Romance, Trans Alluka Zoldyck, Trans Female Character, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-30 19:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10170035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luftballons99/pseuds/luftballons99
Summary: "They run. Killua doesn’t know where, but it doesn’t matter. Alluka is calling after them, but it doesn’t matter. His lungs are raw and breathless, his feet are still bare from when he left his shoes by Mito-san’s front door, his knees still hurt from where they had collided with the hard wooden pier not too long ago -It doesn’t matter. All that matters is Gon’s fingers hot and tight around Killua’s wrist. Gon’s ragged breath, matching Killua’s own. Gon’s shoulders, with mossy mountains and vast seas cradled between them, shifting while he runs and Killua runs after him."(In which Killua learns how to trust again and Gon learns how to earn it back.)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [violetslilacsandhyacinth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetslilacsandhyacinth/gifts).



> title from "Little Lion Man" by Mumford and Sons
> 
> the events of this fic are not all in chronological order but i hope everything comes together anyway

i.

 

Killua has heard clichés about eyes before; about how when they’re dark and big, you feel as if you’ll fall right into them in an entranced stupor and never want to climb back out.

Illumi’s eyes aren’t quite like that.

They’re definitely dark and definitely big, but still -

It’s not -

Not quite like that.

(Nothing about his family, his past, is quite like _anything_.)

Instead, when Killua looks at Illumi, he feels the white hot panic of being chased; the suffocation of being surrounded from all sides; his hopeless knees shaking like he’s been trying to outrun the rise of the moon in an endless cimmerian sky before night sets in and with it, bone-chilling darkness. When Killua looks at Illumi, the inky blackness crowding him seeps into his veins through his pores, drowns his lungs and bubbles in his throat so he can’t even do so much as scream, and the only witness to his deathly silent struggle is an unforgiving moon, mercilessly, painfully bright when it reaches its apex in the starless firmament.

(And if he ever _did_ feel like he were falling into Illumi’s eyes, he swears he would claw his way out of their murky depths if it were the last thing he did, no matter how long it took. He _swears_.)

Killua dreams of Illumi’s eyes often, thinks he feels them watching him when he knows they couldn’t be.

Sometimes, he asks himself _Could they?_ and wants to claw at his forehead and the phantom needle he can’t tell is real or not inside. He doesn’t. He tells himself there’s no point, disguises his fear of what he might find with apathy.

And if it isn’t a needle, it’s something else. The way Killua still thinks of possible escape routes out of every new room he enters, just in case. The way Killua still, after all this time, cannot with complete certainty claim that he’s worth anything other than the syllables of his last name and the bounty he brings home after a job. The way Killua still immediately assesses everyone he meets on sight and convinces himself he could kill them if he had to, easily - just how Illumi taught him; be cautious, keep a backup plan and a sharpened knife in your pocket, make it quick and _run, run, run_.

Killua’s legs are going to give out.

 

ii.

 

In Gon’s eyes, Killua sees summer on Whale Island, the glowing embers of a campfire and the kind, fertile earth, soft and warm under bare feet. In Gon’s palms, Killua feels hands raw from scaling trees and cliffs, the pleasant sting of wind in their lungs when they reach the top, together; In Gon’s laugh, he can almost hear the trilling birdsong in the breeze blowing in through Gon’s bedroom window, the same kind that woke him up every morning he spent there, so heavenly that Killua was never sure if he was still dreaming when he heard it. It always took Gon’s loud yawning and his insistent whisper-shouts of _Killua Killua Killua, look at the sunrise, look, look!_ to let him know he was actually awake.

When Killua looks at Gon - the seaside boy with the wild hair and the sunlit smile - his heart thunders with freedom, with fun, with the world just waiting for them to find it, together, always together -

 

iv.

 

Maybe Killua had overestimated him before, just a little. Maybe he had built the pedestal too high. But he couldn’t help it.

It’s Gon. Gon - his first friend, his first love, his first heartbreak, his first living breath. _Gon._

But as much as Killua had missed him, it hadn’t been all bad, their time apart. He had reunited with Alluka, with her kaleidoscope eyes and choppy hair, who was (and still is) growing up and growing more beautiful with every new sun.

There had been overnight train rides where Killua fell asleep in one timezone and woke up in another, Alluka curled up in the seat next to him. There had been sunset festivals and barefooted dances in cobblestone town squares. There had been Killua’s first experience with alcohol, which certainly sucked absolute _ass_ at the time but is pretty morbidly funny in retrospect, and Alluka cradling a bucket in her arms for him to purge in the morning after. There had been spoiling his baby sister rotten, making up for all the years she spent staring at the same four walls alone and then some, buying her pearls and silk and long flowing skirts. There had been the two of them figuring out how to do her makeup together, because growing up in a family of assassins did not leave much time for learning how to use cosmetics. And there still are albums and albums of pressed flowers and memories that start with a photo of Killua and Alluka and Gon, documenting the first time Killua had had his two favorite people in one place.

And yet something bitter had joined the sweet taste of Gon’s name on Killua’s tongue over the years they spent as strangers on opposite hemispheres of the world that Gon had promised him. Killua had stopped saying it.

But _now_ -

 

vii.

 

There are three toothbrushes by the bathroom sink. Three pairs of shoes by the door, and a few more in the adjacent closet. Books Killua has never read on the shelves, a jacket that’s too small for him hung over the back of a chair, whole wheat chips that he _hates_ in the kitchen cabinet.

His house is not his alone.

And neither is his bed.

A sticky arm coils tightly around his waist, making heat and a thin layer of sweat soak his skin even through his shirt. Killua grumbles, mind foggy with sleep. It’s too hot. His skin and clothes are damp and warm wherever he and the person plastered to his side (and blissfully asleep) make contact. Even the thin sheet they’ve chosen over the downy comforter they’ve kicked to the foot of the bed overnight is too much, trapping humid air against Killua’s body, clammy and irritating. Bright yellow light is streaming in through their large bedroom window, stinging in Killua’s closed eyes. He hides them in the crook of his elbow and grunts when the foreign arm thrown over his body is joined by an equally uncomfortably warm leg.

It’s summer.

“Gon,” Killua says groggily, turning his head towards the boy in question. He keeps his eyes closed, not ready to face the day just yet. When Gon doesn’t answer, Killua nudges him in the gut with a bony elbow. “ _Gon_ ,” he repeats, annoyed, “it’s too hot. Let go.”

Gon whines something unintelligible in return, shifting so he’s practically on top of Killua, his face shoved into the side of his neck.

Killua struggles at first, then sighs, resigning himself to his sticky, sweaty fate. He uses the hand not trapped between him and Gon to rub his eyes and then rest over the small of Gon’s back. Slowly, his eyes blink open, and there Gon is, in all of his sleepy glory, freckles splattered over the sunny skin of his exposed arm, tight around Killua’s middle.

Killua allows himself to smile, but only because he knows Gon can’t see.

“Hey, let me move,” he says, his tone softer than before. After a moment of hesitation Gon grunts in resignation and loosens his hold on him, scooting backwards so Killua has the room to turn and face him completely. Killua watches Gon’s peaceful face for a moment: brows un-knitted, jaw relaxed, the dusting of freckles over the bridge of his nose as charming as ever. He cups Gon’s cheek in his hand, noticing not for the first time their difference in skin tone - no amount of exposure to the sun will make Killua any less pale, he has discovered, but Gon’s skin has always been a warm brown, no matter what.

Gon’s eyes crack open. He studies Killua for a moment before his sleepy expression melts into a content smile. He leans into Killua’s touch, kisses Killua’s palm.

“Hi,” Gon says sweetly, closing his eyes again as his hand strokes up Killua’s sweat slick back.

“Hey,” Killua returns just as softly. When he can’t bear not to anymore, he leans forward and kisses Gon. Gon kisses back, hooking his arms around Killua’s waist and rolling onto his back, Killua now on top of him. They giggle against each other’s mouths. They kiss again, slow and lazy, all gentle tongues and warm lips.

They hear pots clattering in the kitchen and the sink running. They pause.

“Alluka must be making breakfast,” Killua remarks, yawning as he glances at his bedside clock and Gon plants kisses up the side of his clammy neck. (Killua ignores the flurry of beating butterfly wings in his abdomen in response.) It’s a little past nine in the morning - way too early for Killua. He would have slept in if Gon weren’t such an enthusiastic cuddler, but Killua can’t bring himself to stay mad at him for it.

“Oh,” Gon yawns back, unraveling his arms from around Killua. The sweat on Killua’s back goes cold. He grumbles in displeasure. “I’ll go help her.” Gon gently pushes Killua off of himself and gets up, stretching his long limbs. Suddenly, he seems full of energy. Typical Gon - when he’s up, he’s up.

Killua pouts. He feels chilly all of a sudden, goosebumps erupting over the skin of his arms. “ _Now_ you let go,” he mumbles as he watches Gon adjust his wrinkled undershirt and boxers.

He’s taller than Killua now, but not by much. Still, he’s not the scrawny boy he was so long ago, the suggestion of lithe muscles having joined his brown skin and strong bones. He’s only grown more handsome over the years, despite the scars decorating his shoulders, his stomach - everywhere, really - each with their own stories. Killua often spaces out looking at them, recognizing some because he was there when Gon got them, trying to make sense of others. He might have been able to prevent them if he had been there to protect him.

Gon smiles down at Killua brightly, dazzlingly, breaking Killua free of his thoughts, and drops to his knees next to the bed to give Killua a wet kiss on his cheek. Killua makes an exaggeratedly disgusted noise, swatting him away as Gon laughs before stepping over to their shared dresser and rifling through his drawer to find pants. Killua blissfully watches him pull on a pair of green shorts and thinks about how lucky he is, his arms crossed behind and pillowing his head. Gon seems to notice him staring and smiles sweetly over his shoulder. Killua can’t help but offer a small smile in return.

“You can keep sleeping, _babe_ ,” Gon says, the endearment coming out exaggerated and his eyebrows wiggling flirtatiously, as if he needs to make a jokey excuse to be able to say it. They’re both still figuring all of this out - maybe someday they’ll be able to say stuff like that just because, instead of to tease each other. “I’ll wake you again when breakfast is ready, ‘kay?” Gon leans against their bedroom door frame leisurely, honey brown eyes warming Killua from the inside out as he grins at him.

Killua smiles a little wider and nods. “‘Kay,” he yawns and curls up on Gon’s side of the bed. His pillow still smells like him; like lemongrass.

Gon lets out a soft chuckle and leaves, closing the door behind him. Killua hears a cheerful “Good morning, Alluka!” followed by an equally good-natured “Hi, Gon!” from down the hall and grins into Gon’s pillow.

 

viii.

 

Killua has humid half-dreams of kissing every single one of Gon’s freckles, making a map from one shoulder blade to the other; from elbow to wrist.

But then he dreams of finding an open wound there, a gash shredding through his golden skin and bone and turning it copper and gnarled like the scarred bark of a dying tree. His flesh withers and shrinks down until Killua is left holding Gon’s irreparably wilted hand and dead fingers, and he’s just fourteen again and the failure and helplessness are fresh in his mind, sharp in his heart.

The rest is just faint impressions of sterile hospital air in his lungs and flickering fluorescent lights throbbing in his eyes, the feeling of Gon’s hand slipping through his fingers, and the dull echo of _This has nothing to do with you_ reverberating through him and rattling his bones.

Consciousness shoots through him like white lightning and he jolts up in bed, the wet skin on his back and nape frozen. He does not leave the room for a long time.

Illumi, he has known for a while, is not the only thing that gives him nightmares.

 

ix.

 

“Morning, onii-chan,” Alluka says later, smiling brightly from her spot on the couch. She’s reading something, her book opened in her lap and her fingers lovingly caressing the flowery pages - Alluka had said she’d been interested in gardening lately; looks like she’s been reading up on it. They even have a small flowerbed filling up the sill of their livingroom window.

Alluka cares for the flowers like they’re alive, tracing the veins in their petals with her finger and patting the soft earth they sprout from after it drinks up all the water from her yellow can.

Now, her layers and layers of silky hair fall past her shoulders in a thick cascade of rich brown, brushed and decorated. She glances at her wristwatch and adds “Well, I guess it’s not really morning anymore.”

Killua manages a tired smile that brightens when Alluka meets his eyes again. She is joy incarnate. It’s hard feeling sad with her around, despite his haunted dreams. “Still early,” he decides, flopping down next to her. She folds her book and sets it down on the coffee table by her favorite mug, reflexively scooting closer to her brother.

Alluka purses her lips. “It’s past noon, onii-chan,” she informs him, curling her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek. “Gon tried waking you for breakfast but you weren’t having it. We saved you some pancakes, though.”

Killua has been reliably informed that he sleeps like the dead, and so is not surprised that Gon didn’t realize he was having a bad dream. He does not allow himself to feel disappointed. He wraps Alluka up in a warm hug when the word ‘pancakes’ registers in his tired mind. “Thank you, Jesus,” he says reverently, looking up at the ceiling.

His sister giggles. “Call me Alluka,” she tells him with a pat on his head.

Killua chuckles, nuzzling her hair - she’s using the cocoa butter shampoo Gon picked up for her from the salon downtown. _That’s_ why her hair's so shiny-looking this morning.

“Your hair smells nice,” Killua says, breathing in deeply. It’s warm from the sun beating down on it through the living room window. She must have been sitting here reading for quite a while.

“I know,” Alluka says back confidently, and Killua can just hear the playful smirk in her voice. He curls into her side, sighing away the lingering tension of his nightmare earlier. Alluka has always had a calming presence and Killua has always been immensely grateful for that. She settles her arm over his shoulders, her free hand petting his hair.

Man, is he crazy about Alluka.

“Killua?” Gon calls from the bathroom, and a few moments later he emerges, steps into the room and soaks up the midday sun. His hair is still wet from his evident shower, losing its battle with gravity and drooping endearingly. Killua’s heart flutters. He reminds himself that dreams are just dreams, but it is still comforting to see Gon alive and lively and happy to see Killua. _He’s okay_. “You’re awake!”

Gon pads over to him, bends down and kisses his forehead (and Killua almost holds him there by the ends of the damp towel draped over his shoulders), straightens, and then decides to give Alluka the same treatment.

“Hungry?” he asks Killua, reaching down to thread his fingers through his messy white hair. “We’ve got pancakes.”

“Alluka mentioned that. Chocolate?”

“Blueberry.”

“Ugh, no, _why_ \- “

“Onii-chan, your diet is, like, ninety percent chocolate already. Eat a fruit,” Alluka scolds, swatting her brother’s shoulder.

Killua sighs. “ _Fine_ ,” he says, and lets Gon pull him to his feet by the wrists. Gon presents him with a short stack of pancakes drenched in syrup a few moments later, and Killua wolfs it down and doesn’t comment when the boy sitting across the kitchen table from him teases “See? You love them.”

 _I love_ **_you_ ** , Killua doesn’t say, but he thinks it immediately, and the shock of it makes him choke and cough so violently that Gon has to bolt around to his side of the table and smack the flat of his hand between his shoulder blades to make sure Killua doesn’t suffer the most embarrassing death in history. Alluka laughs at him from the couch, falling back and kicking her legs in the air. _Traitor._

(It annoys him that the thought still surprises him so much; that it still makes him feel so _vulnerable_ . He has loved Gon for so long, he knows, but he supposes he had been pretending not to for just as long. Now, they live in the same apartment, they sleep in the same bed, and if Killua feels so inclined, he can lean over and kiss Gon, drink in his smile, whenever he wants. And it’s… a lot. It feels like neither of them are the same people they were _before_ , and if Killua is honest with himself, they really _aren’t_ . It’s as if the two years they spent together was a lifetime ago, like they were born again with the same memories, but new hearts. And it’s just _a lot_ , to go from former best friends trying to relearn how to be together to... _actually_ being together in the span of a year.)

When Killua can breathe again, he sighs, a blush coating his cheeks like red paint. Gon’s hand softens against his back, rubbing circles over where he had been smacking him before. “You okay?” he asks, concern and amusement laced together in his voice.

Killua clears his throat. “I’m good,” he rasps.

 

x.

 

Killua, actually, is not good at all. Even now.

Alluka is safe and nearby, sleeping peacefully in her room on the other end of the apartment. Gon is right next to him, his warm back pressed flush against Killua’s and his soft snores filling the silence of the room. Their window is open, mesh curtains billowing in the chilly night breeze. Killua can smell the faint sea salt in the air, can follow white stripes of quiet moonlight illuminating stretches of their sheets, dipping into the valleys created by wrinkles in the fabric. The whole world looks monochrome twilight, saturated in complimentary dark blues and soft whites.

God’s in his heaven, all's right with the world, and Killua can’t fucking sleep.

He listens to the seconds, the minutes, the hours tick by, the glowing numbers of the clock on his nightstand mocking him. He doesn’t dare move, doesn’t dare disturb the sleeping boy next to him, doesn’t dare ripple the sheets and the stillness of the night.

His mind wanders aimlessly, vulnerably. He has a feeling this is going to be one of his bad nights, the kind where if he lets Gon’s tranquil breathing lull him to sleep, Illumi will find him in his dreams and turn them into something ugly, something dark and twisted and poisonous. _Look at yourself_ , he will hear Illumi say, but all Killua will look at is Illumi’s wide, unblinking eyes, his own trembling body suspended in blank black space. _You have no right_ , he will see Illumi’s lips form the words, voice even and clear like the flat surface of frozen water. He will feel Illumi’s voice vibrating in his bones, like it’s coming from his own head, from the ghost of a needle trapped inside it. And Illumi’s eyes will grow bigger and bigger, and no matter how much Killua will want to run, he will not dare to move, he will not escape those vantablack eyes, and they will swallow everything, and some traitorous part of Killua will think _I deserve this - This is how it should be_ _\- It has nothing to do with you._

But then -

 _Gon_ , he will think, and then awake in a silent panic. He will lie in bed motionless - _sleep paralysis_ , Alluka has told him it’s called - because any wrong move could land those endless eyes back on him, and even if Illumi is miles and miles away, that is a chance Killua will refuse to take.

Killua does not want to go through that. He never does. So he stays awake, staring at the numbers on the clock and reassuring himself that he’s real, that this apartment is real, that Gon dreaming beside him is real, whenever the numbers change.

He decides to stay awake, through dry eyes and weak limbs. But Gon has never let things go as planned.

“Killua…?” Killua hears Gon mumble, or at least he thinks he does. He doesn’t reply, but then he feels rustling sheets, the short absence of Gon’s warm body against his, and then Gon’s arms around him from behind, his face in Killua’s cottony hair. “Killua,” Gon says again, somewhere between a simple exhale and an unamused sigh, “I know you’re awake.”

Killua resists the urge to tense up, to shrink away. He knows it’s reassuring to Gon to be able to hold him like this when Killua’s having one of his moments, even though Killua hardly deserves the softness of his touch; the caring caress of his fingers; the gentle kisses to the back of his head and neck.

“Talk to me,” Gon urges softly. Killua feels a dip in the bit of mattress behind his head where Gon is propping himself up on his elbow, and then he feels Gon’s lips on his cheek. “Nightmare?” Gon guesses, nuzzling Killua’s temple. His hand soothes over Killua’s churning stomach, warm - Gon is always so _warm_.

Killua manages to find his voice after a few moments and says, “None yet,” staring straight ahead at their cracked window. He will not tell Gon about his dreams that morning.

Gon doesn’t reply, instead trailing his hand up Killua’s body until it reaches his shoulder and gently pinning it to the mattress so Killua’s on his back. He kisses Killua between the eyes; right under his hairline; by the curve of his jaw. Killua shudders, lets Gon do his thing, closing his eyes and basking in the warmth of Gon’s body.

“What do you need?” Gon wonders, a selfless hand on Killua’s cheek - the one that he’s not busy kissing. He’s always so ready to help, so ready to jump in and save the day. Killua often asks himself what he could do to return the favor, how he could give Gon even a fraction of what Gon has given him. Killua often asks himself if Gon would even let him if he tried. Probably not.

Killua tries not to think about that right now. His hands find Gon’s face in the dark, hovering close to his own. The moon makes his eyes glow, lights up parts of his face like an unfinished puzzle. Killua can fill in the blanks himself, can remember the exact position of every freckle.

( - Can pinpoint the exact stretch of skin on his body that shriveled and then spread to every part of Gon like a disease, leaving him bloodied and fragile and so close to dead -

 _Easy. One nightmare at a time._ )

“I need Illumi to fucking die,” Killua says, and means it, but doesn’t, and hates himself.

Gon pauses thoughtfully, seriously considering Killua’s request. “Not really an option right now…” he hums, and then seems to realize what Killua’s wish says about his current state of mind. “He can’t get you here. Anywhere. As long as you’re with me.”

 _But how long until you break_ that _promise, too?_ Killua does not ask.

He used to think Gon’s word was solid, brilliant gold. He used to think that Gon could make anything happen through sheer force of will, through nothing but his clenched fist and the fire in his eyes. But they’ve grown up and grown apart since then, and Killua, as much as he loves Gon, loves him more than anything, would die for him easily, happily, knows better than to trust Gon on this. Even if he wants to.

“Right,” Killua says quietly, colorlessly. Gon tips forward, his kiss landing on the side of Killua’s nose. Killua exhales softly.

“You don’t believe me,” Gon deduces, breath cool on Killua’s reddening cheek.

Killua sighs. “It’s - I just don’t - “

“I’m not mad,” Gon interjects then, placatingly and a little sadly. “Not at you. I wouldn’t - … it makes sense. That you have doubts.” Killua thinks he can see Gon bite his lip. He _knows_ he can feel Gon’s tight grip on his hand. He squeezes back reflexively, as hard as his rubber-boned fingers will let him.

“God, Killua, I messed up so bad,” Gon laughs, voice gray in self pity. He hangs his head, lowers his upper body on top of Killua’s and holds him tight. “I’m so sorry. I want to fix everything I screwed up, back then.”

 _(Back then_. Back when they were just two kids looking for adventure. Back when they had no earthly clue what they might find.

Killua still has nightmares about the ants; about Kite’s bloody arm cutting through the midnight air, unencumbered by the rest of him; about Pitou’s murderous intent palpable in the atmosphere - stronger than Illumi’s. Stronger than Killua. Stronger than Gon. But more than anything, Killua has nightmares about Gon’s voice, Gon’s back turned to him as it says _This has nothing to do with you_.

And that was when Killua learned heartbreak. But at least that proved he has a heart.

 _But one nightmare at a time_.)

The memory still makes Killua’s eyes sting, even if it only crosses his mind for a split second. It makes the hold he has on his emotions unravel in weak ribbons. It makes him wrap his arms tight around Gon’s neck and keep him trapped against his chest.

Killua’s voice cracks when he says “Please don’t leave.”

That’s it, _that’s_ what Killua needs. Always.

They’ve talked about this before, of course. They reunited a little over a year ago, when they were sixteen, and spent six months re-growing bones and sinew and heart. They talked about what they hadn’t in the time they spent apart, said some things that needed to be said - _I’m sorry I never called_ and _I was afraid_ and _I missed you_ and, eventually, _I love you_. And then they never talked about it again. And that was okay, for the most part, but sometimes it’s -

Sometimes Killua still has a hard time knowing where he stands. Which is a little ridiculous; they _live_ together. But an apartment lease and love alone cannot erase what they’ve been through; what Gon did.

And it’s not like it was all Gon’s fault. He was broken and lost and furious, and Killua just happened to be caught in the crossfire.

Why Killua wasn’t allowed to fight _with_ him is what still makes him feel hollow.

“Killua - “ Gon starts, his own voice wavering, but Killua rolls over and shoves him back into the mattress, tears leaving hot trails on his cheeks. He watches them fall down onto Gon’s own cheek, glinting in the moonlight like pearls as they do, and then melt into his skin.

“I’m sorry,” Killua sobs weakly, knuckles white as he grips Gon’s shoulders. “I know it’s selfish, I know that, that maybe I don’t have the right, but I - I want to stay with you. Please. Let me stay with you.” His breath comes shallowly, his chest heaving with how much work it is to breathe. His mind gets fuzzy from fatigue and the lack of oxygen - he’s hyperventilating, he realizes belatedly, and goes cold to the tips of his ears.

“Oh, god, no, Killua,” Gon says brokenly, sounding like he might cry himself, and sits up, strong hands brushing Killua’s hair out of his forehead. “Killua - Killua, _breathe_. Just breathe.”

Killua nods before he even fully grasps what Gon is saying. He collapses into Gon’s arms, feels them enveloping him seconds later, and muffles his helpless sobs in Gon’s shoulder. Gon rubs patterns into Killua’s back, telling him _breathe_ and _I love you_ and _I’m staying right here_.

And all Killua can think is of the way Gon had said so easily that Killua was his best friend in the world, that he was so happy to have met Killua, that Killua meant something to him, and finally, that the pain in Gon’s heart, the loss and the grief, was something Killua didn’t have the right to try and soothe; that Gon wouldn’t let Killua help him the way Gon helped Killua; that they weren’t a team like Killua had thought they were; that Gon wanted Killua to mind his own business.

Gon says, _I’m not going anywhere_ , and all Killua can think is _I don’t believe you._

 

xi.

 

When Killua awakes the next morning, Gon is gone, and he immediately starts crying - silently, so Alluka doesn’t hear - as he’s drenched in the dazzlingly ironic light of the morning sun. He puts his face into his hands and curls into himself, shoulders quaking with every shattered breath. But then his bedroom door creaks open and a split second later Killua can hear - and feel - feet thundering against the hardwood floor, and suddenly Gon is back in bed, surrounding him in a bone-crushing embrace, saying _Killua Killua Killua Killua_ , over and over and over.

 

iii.

 

“He _said_ ,” Killua barks, and then lurches forward to bury his face in the bucket Alluka has settled in her lap; he coughs up fruity bile and slimy chunks of fig pastries, a traditional dish at the festival he _thought_ would be fun to attend, “that it was _cider_.”

His head is spinning in a way that stopped being pleasant after the fifth cup the heavyset merchant had offered him, saying _drink, drink and eat, it’s a festival_ as he laughed benevolently with his large hands splayed over his round stomach. Killua had thought nothing of it at first, casually taking sip after sip until his vision started to blur and warmth bloomed on his cheeks and the sweetness of the pastries Alluka was feeding him made him thirstier and thirstier.

He realizes now, as he’s kneeling in the grass in front of his sister and spilling the contents of his stomach into the bucket in her lap, that the fifth cup was a shitty, _shitty_ idea. Alluka had _so_ been looking forward to this, had bought special shoes for dancing and wide bracelets that clinked together and sparkled in the light of the bonfire while she twirled in time with the fiddlers’ music. Her long, colorfully ornate skirt is probably getting grass stains on it now, and they can barely even hear the folk songs coming from the distant town square over the sound of Killua’s pained retching.

He can’t keep his eyes open. He can’t form a coherent sentence. The thoughts swirling in his sedated mind are too unclear, too vague to match with others; a conundrum of puzzle pieces Killua can’t even begin to sort and put together. He doesn’t know what kind of face Alluka’s making. He doesn’t want to find out.

“I’m sorry, All’ka,” he manages to slur, saliva coating his lips and dribbling down his chin. He spits into the bucket, creating a thread of semi-fluid that hangs from his lips. He tries to break it by spitting again, but that only thickens it. He curses through grit teeth. “Onii-chan’s so sorry,” he says pathetically.

He vomits again, tears suddenly streaming down his face. “ _Fuck_ ,” he croaks, one hand blindly scrabbling for Alluka’s while the fingers on his other dig into the cool grass underneath them. Alluka grabs it and kisses his knuckles, squeezing his palm uncertainly.

“Are you going to die?” she asks frantically, her other hand settling over the back of Killua’s head and stroking a little too fast for it to be comforting. She’s scared. Killua is scared, too. He has no control over anything, like this. His muscles are weak and twitching and any subtle movement makes his near-empty stomach turn. He’s cold everywhere except where his tears sear streaks into the skin of his cheeks. He kneels in front of his sister in agony and can’t help but think _People do this for fucking fun._

“If I could survive the fucking chimera ants,” Killua rasps determinedly through another wave of nausea, “I c’n live through god damn fuckin’ shitty spiked cider.”

He lurches, another cup of sickly-sweet drink dumping into the now almost-full bucket. “Fucking _fuck_.”

“Onii-chan,” Alluka says helplessly, leaning down and kissing his head. She recoils again almost immediately. “You smell,” she tells him, sounding like she might cry.

 _Shit_ . Killua takes a deep, trembling breath. He steels himself and slowly forces his spine to straighten, ignoring his nausea and pounding head. Alluka gasps when he finally cracks his wet eyes open. She _is_ crying, glittering beads clinging to her thick eyelashes. It’s nighttime, but the oil lamps lining the cobblestone road they’re crouched next to are just bright enough that Killua can make out the horrified look on Alluka’s face.

“Alluka,” Killua starts, but has to pause immediately to swallow down bile, hand clamped over his mouth. After a moment he lowers it again, gulping before he continues with a, “D’you rem’ber which way the inn is?”

Alluka sniffles, setting down the bucket in the dark grass next to her and rising to her feet. “I think so,” she says, offering Killua her hands. Killua stares at the bracelets dangling from her wrists and feels more tears roll down his cheeks. He grabs onto her hands and she pulls him up, arms reaching around his middle when he’s on his feet.

“Wait,” Alluka says in realization. “Nanika could get us there faster.”

Killua is too dizzy to nod. Why hadn’t he thought of that?

He hates being drunk.

“Nanika,” he says, wiping his wet mouth on his sleeve, “Let’s go, ‘kay? Onii-chan’s gonna get you two room service. Much as you want. Get us to the inn.”

He watches Alluka’s face round out, her blue eyes going black and pupil-less. “Aye,” Nanika says and holds Killua tight. He closes his eyes, opens them a moment later, and finds himself staring up at the ceiling of his and Alluka’s shared room.

He pats the space next to his thigh, feeling the soft fibers of the intricately decorated carpet he remembers from before they left this morning. The sudden teleportation must have made him fall. How long has he been lying here? He glances to the side motionlessly and sees Alluka’s worried face hovering over him.

It’s pathetic, looking this shameful in front of his baby sister, someone he’s supposed to be protecting, someone he wants to take care of, someone who shouldn’t have to have a care in the world after the hell she’s been through, living in that house.

Why is Killua so bad at loving the people he loves? Why can he never manage to protect them the way they deserve?

(Gon hasn’t called him once, he realizes suddenly. Not once since they parted at the World Tree. Not _once_.)

“Onii-chan?” Alluka asks, voice small and worried. “Please don’t cry.” Her little hands reach for Killua’s wet cheeks, gently rubbing them dry. Killua grits his teeth. _This isn’t how it’s supposed to go._ “Do you have to throw up again?”

Killua manages to shake his head, closing his shining eyes. “I love you, Alluka,” he sobs. He presses the heel of his palm against his forehead, trying to get a grip, his clenched fingers twitching, his lips wobbling. It doesn’t work.

“I love you,” he says again, voice thick with sincerity. He has no idea where this is coming from, but the words tumble out of his mouth clumsily like fledgling falls. “I love you and I love Leorio and Kurapika and Bisky and fucking Ikalgo and, and I love - “ he hiccups pathetically, “I love Gon. I love him so much, Alluka, and I couldn’t - I couldn’t help him or - “ he cuts himself off, knowing that if he continues, he’ll never stop, and he’s said too much already. He curses under his shaky breath and hides his face in his hands, feeling nauseous and dizzy and tired and sad, and the emotions spill out of him like blood gushing from an open wound, flushing out bacteria and toxins before clotting and scabbing the damaged skin. He hasn’t cried in a long time. It almost feels good.

Alluka makes a pitying noise in the back of her throat, shuffling closer and smoothing the sweaty hair out of Killua’s forehead. Killua doesn’t look at her.

“It’s okay, onii-chan,” Alluka tells him comfortingly. “I know. They know.”

Killua knows that that’s complete bullshit, of course - How could Alluka know how they feel if she hasn’t met any of them, save for Gon? Even Killua’s not sure where he stands with them.

“No they don’t,” he argues frustratedly. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone.

“Onii-chan, I don’t think that’s - “

Killua is already dialing. Alluka sighs when he presses his phone to his ear, staring up at the ceiling resolutely. In the back of his mind, he knows he’s unstable right now, and that his pendulum mood swings are going to make him do something he regrets, probably - but regretting calling Gon in the middle of the night is nothing compared to regretting not calling him at all.

“Well, I suppose it’s about time,” Alluka says defeatedly, standing up and readjusting her wrinkled skirt. “I’ll be in the bathroom, I guess.”

Killua sniffs in response. The line keeps ringing, but then, a _click_ , and the faint sound of waves crashing on the other end - or is that just the blood rushing to Killua’s face?

 _If you put a seashell against your ear_ , Gon had told him once, years ago, _you can hear the ocean! Let’s find one together!_

Gon had been so excited about it that Killua hadn’t questioned why they were going to listen to the ocean through a shell when the real thing was right next to them.

They had combed the beach on Whale Island until Gon had found one he deemed worthy - one with smooth salmon-colored ridges and prongs like a trident - and dusted the yellow sand off of it before holding it to his own ear like it was whispering music into it, so at peace that he closed his eyes and shushed Killua when he tried to ask for a turn. When Gon was finished, he had put it to Killua’s ear himself and said _Close your eyes, too_.

Killua had listened and thought that certainly it was some kind of magic. Everything about Whale Island had seemed to be.

Do cell phones have the same effect?

“ _Killua?_ ” comes Gon’s uncertain voice, unmistakable, albeit deeper than Killua remembers. “ _Is that you?_ ”

Killua holds the phone away from his mouth for a moment and takes a deep breath, sniffs, and clears his throat. He puts the phone back up to his ear.

 _Yeah, it’s me_ , Killua means to say, and _It’s been a while_.

What comes instead is a demanding “Why didn’t you ever call?”

The line goes quiet, aside from the distant rolling waves and chirping seagulls. Gon _must_ be on Whale Island.

Killua waits. His eyes well up with warm tears. He hasn’t spoken to Gon in _so long_. Why hadn’t they called each other? Why did Killua care about...whatever it was that was holding him back? Illumi? Gon not wanting his help, back then?

Why did that matter? Killua can’t remember. All he knows is that he’s missed Gon; his best friend. Ever since they parted ways, a piece of him had gone missing; a rift had formed between their hearts, and Killua had just let it grow. _Stupid_.

“ _Um_ ,” Gon says sheepishly, and even Killua can tell that he’s been caught off-guard - or maybe red-handed. Killua can imagine him nervously rubbing that back of his neck. Does he still do that? He used to always do that. “ _Killua, are you...okay? You sound…_ ”

Killua’s face pinches in irritation, and a few tears escape his eyes as a result. “I’m _fine_ ,” he insists hoarsely. “Answer the question.” Killua doesn’t even remember what he’d asked, just that it was something important. But could it really be that important if Killua can’t remember? He stares up at the slow-spinning ceiling fan in confusion, mind hazy with his push-pull emotions. _This sucks._

“ _Killua_ ,” Gon says, concerned, “ _Have you...been crying?_ ”

“ _No_ ,” Killua refutes, in tears.

“ _You_ are _crying_ ,” Gon realizes, and seems to deflate. “ _What happened, Killua? Are you hurt?_ ”

Killua sniffs pitifully. _He’s so nice._ “I’m drunk,” he mumbles.

A pause. Killua listens to the sounds of Whale Island coming from Gon’s end of the line, closing his eyes. He can almost feel the sunshine and the warm sand between his toes.

“ _Oh_ ,” Gon says, dumbfounded. “ _Killua, you...like alcohol?_ ”

Killua’s nose wrinkles in disgust. “I _hate_ alcohol,” he tells him, distracted from his turbulent emotions for a moment. “I didn’t know...The guy said it was _cider_.”

“ _Someone spiked your drink?_ ” Gon’s voice rises high in panic, reminding Killua of how he sounded before they split up. “ _Killua -_ “

“I’m fine. Didn’t get mugged or anything. Just barfed a lot,” Killua tells him. He’s going to be embarrassed about that tomorrow, probably. “Your voice got deeper,” he says suddenly, surprised at his own bluntness.

“ _Wha - oh_ ,” Gon answers, voice evening out as he calms down. Knowing that he was worried makes a satisfied little smile quirk up the corners of Killua’s lips; one that he tries to school into a frown, just on principle. “ _Y-Yours, too_.”

Killua feels fresh warmth burning his cheeks, and not because of the alcohol. Suddenly he remembers what he’d wanted to ask - or had he already? He’s not sure. Better safe than sorry. “Why didn’t you ever call?” he asks Gon. His heavy pendulum heart swings back painfully and strikes him deep in his chest, vibrating his ribs. Does Killua really want to know the answer?

Gon sighs. Killua is annoyed at the static encumbering his voice - it’s just another reminder of how far away he is. “ _I just_ …” Gon starts quietly. There’s another faint splash. Killua can picture him walking the length of the beach, ankle-deep in foamy water. Gon makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “ _W-Well, why didn’t you?_ ” he demands, though it lacks any fire.

“I didn’t know if I was allowed,” Killua says before he can think about it. His words catch up with him seconds later, and he can feel his eyes sting.

“ _Allowed_ ?” Gon asks softly, confused. “ _What do you mean, Killua?_ ”

Killua tenses, whitening fingers pressed tight against the edges of his phone and jaw clenched. “Didn’t know if you wanted me to,” he mumbles, trying not to let his voice crack under the weight of his words.

He regrets calling. He’s just inviting more heartbreak.

Gon’s breath hitches. There’s another millennial silence, one that Killua spends gnawing his bottom lip raw to try and divert his attention from Illumi’s omniscient voice in the back of his head, scolding him for hoping -

\- Well, hoping for _what_?

“ _Oh, Killua…_ ” Gon mutters somberly.

Killua’s eyes squeeze shut. _Not for that._

“Forget it,” he chokes out, and he’s ready to just end the call there, because that’s it, isn’t it?

 _Oh, Killua_ , like Gon felt bad for him. _Oh, Killua,_ like that’s all he has to say. _Oh, Killua_ , like a nonsense apology. _Oh, Killua_ , like Killua’s the only one who’s been lonely all these years. Maybe he is.

But then Gon is saying, “ _Wait, wait - don’t… don’t hang up_ .” Killua hears him swallow. “ _If you hang up, I don’t know if I could...call you back._ ”

Killua’s wet eyes open. He waits, tries to breathe. He counts how many rotations the lazy ceiling fan above him manages before Gon starts talking again.

“ _I guess_ ,” Gon begins feebly, “ _I guess I wasn’t sure if I wanted you to call either. Or if I wanted to call you._ ”

The fan completes its sixth revolution. _Oh._ _That sounds familiar._

It’s a response Killua can understand, but not one he wants.

Gon has always been self-assured; he has always known what he wants and what to do to get it. He’s never been one to sit on a fence. That was always Killua’s thing. Killua is the one who waits to see which way the wind will blow, the one who considers and looks both ways before taking his first cautious step, if he even decides to move at all. Gon is a leap of faith, a lucky rabbit’s foot, a wish on a star.

And yet Killua is the one who had called.

Gon gulps. “ _This isn’t - we should talk about this later. When you’re not…_ ” he trails off, chuckling, maybe just a little uncomfortable. Killua wonders what he means at first, but then turns his head, sees his puke-bucket and thinks, _Ah._

“Shit-faced,” he supplies blankly.

“ _Shit-faced_ ,” Gon agrees. He giggles again, the way he did when they were twelve and almost hunters and they were trying not to wake Leorio and Kurapika. “ _Ne, Killua, what’s it feel like? I’ve never had any before._ ”

Killua narrows his eyes and touches his free palm to his burning forehead. “Felt good at first,” he concedes, remembering how the tension had flushed out of him with the first few drinks. “Now I’m lying on the floor with a bucket of my own puke. _And_ I feel like crying, but I don’t know why.”

Gon laughs. Killua has flashbacks to pillow fights and races and games of rock-paper-scissors that determined who was paying for dinner that night. His lips seal shut.

_Oh. That’s why._

“ _So Killua’s a sappy drunk_ ,” Gon deduces, probably smirking. Jerk. “ _Mito-san’s like that_.”

Killua hums. He misses Mito-san, too.

“ _Don’t worry, Killua_ ,” Gon goes on, “ _You’ll feel better in the morning_.”

Killua purses his lips. “Pretty sure it _is_ morning,” he drawls with a sniff, turning his head to look out the window to the dark sky, now lighter than before, he thinks - What time is it where Gon is? - but then something more pressing occurs to him. “You’re saying my name a lot. Gon.”

More splashing, followed by rustling static. A moment later, Killua can hear Gon’s embarrassed laughter. “ _Almost dropped my phone in the water_ ,” he explains. “ _And, um...yeah. I didn’t realize until you called, but, well, I guess...I missed saying it_.”

Another pendulum swing, so forceful that it reaches its apex in less than a second and just keeps reeling. It has Killua’s resolve to hold back his tears buckling immediately. He sniffs repeatedly, pearls of salt water trickling out of the corners of his eyes and down over the bridge of his nose - his head is still turned to the side, facing the window, the carpet beneath him scratching his cheek.

“ _Killua?_ ” Gon asks carefully. Killua wishes he was here. “ _Are you okay?_ ”

Killua shudders. “Mhm,” he lies, eyes blurry and lips wobbling, and then he breaks. “I just miss you so much,” he confesses through a sob. Alcohol is not conducive to his desired apathy, his heart is not conducive to his desired heartlessness. He doesn’t want Gon to think he’s desperate and tries to hold it down - the last thing he needs is Alluka coming in and seeing him like this again. But Gon makes a choked noise over the phone, like he’s trying just as hard not to cry, and Killua can’t help himself.

“ _I miss you too, Killua_ ,” Gon says quietly, voice breaking like the gentle waves Killua can still hear in the background. “ _Gosh, I - Can I ask you something?_ ”

Killua nods, sniveling and realizing too late that Gon can’t see him. “Yeah?” he prompts thickly.

“ _Do you want to see me?_ ” Gon wonders, voice cracking.

It’s a stupid question. Maybe if Killua were sober, if Killua could remember all the stupid layers of guilt he had piled on top of each other; the web of worst-case scenarios and half-assed excuses he’d made; he might have to think about his answer. But he isn’t, he can’t, and he won’t.

“ _Yes_ ,” Killua whispers, voice high and thin, “ _Yes_ , Gon, I want to see you. Do you want to see me?”

Gon sniffs and fails to choke down a muffled, helpless whimper. “ _Yes_ ,” he says back, and Killua has to cover his mouth with his free hand. “ _I really,_ really _want to see you. It’s - I mean, I’m sorry, I - where are you right now? I’ll come to you -_ “

“ _No_ ,” Killua interjects, a little too loud. He wipes his running nose on his sleeve. “No, you - you’re on Whale Island now, right?”

“ _Yeah_ ,” Gon says quizzically. “ _But how did you -_ “

“Just a hunch,” Killua answers. He forces himself into a sitting position and rubs his eyes dry. “I’ll come to you. With Alluka.”

“ _Okay_ ,” Gon agrees in a sigh. “ _You’re going to -_ “ he pauses, probably biting his lip - “ _Remember this, right?_ ”

Killua feels excitement coursing through his veins, pulsing under his skin. He gets up, legs shaky but determined, and is already stuffing clothes into his bag when he answers “ _Yes_.”

 

v.

 

Killua hauls his and Alluka’s bags off the boat once it docks on Whale Island a few weeks later, sweating in the high noon sun. He blinks yellow light out of his eyes as they step onto the pier, tepid waves of glittering light lapping up at its wooden pillars lazily, noisy seagulls flapping overhead. Alluka fans herself as they’re jostled along by the crowd of fishermen that had been travelling with them, all scratchy, jubilant voices and grinning faces. Whale Island, with its green mountains and white beaches and dewy, salty air, seems to have a purifying effect not only on Killua, but on everyone who comes here.

It makes sense that this is where Gon is from. The place where Gon took his first fawny steps, where he went to school but couldn’t remember what happens when you multiply seven and four, where he collected sea shells and stones and herbs, where he woke up every morning for twelve years to birds chirping on his windowsill and pecking at the bread crumbs he had left out for them.

Meanwhile Killua was learning how to see silhouettes in the dark while hiding his own; how to avoid cavern eyes and pale-moon faces; how to maneuver around the house without making a sound; how to tuck into corners and spaces he didn’t belong in, a knuckle between his baby teeth to keep himself quiet; how to steal hearts out of people’s chests; how it felt to have them throbbing in his palm and wonder if his was the same - red and beating and _alive_. Killua was always learning, never growing.

Gon is different. Gon is meant to stand in the sunlight, to drink up the dawn like the tall grass here that he and Killua had played hide and seek in years ago, disguising nothing in his quest for the sky, and no place has a more brilliant sun than Whale Island, except maybe Gon’s own eyes.

A man with fish-hook scars on his knuckles tells Killua he can get him the best salmon prices, as if that’s definitely something that Killua cares about - _Sure, guy, I came all the way out to an island where I could easily just fish my damn self just to buy salmon from some seedy merchant_ \- but then Alluka trips over a crack in the wooden pier and bumps against Killua’s shoulder, and once Killua regains his footing and makes sure she’s okay, he looks up again and sees a wild-haired figure standing up ahead in a slim tunnel between heads in the crowd, and suddenly Killua can’t breathe. He grabs Alluka by the hand roughly and _runs_ , tearing through the blur of people like cannon fire, his only priority bursting through on the other side, and once they have, Killua is only vaguely aware of the crowd in his wake. His knees almost buckle from his frantic sprint, the weight of his and Alluka’s bags making his muscles ache. He works through it, legs and lungs burning and heart pounding in time with his quick feet slamming into the ground with each step. His eyes hurt from the white sun, but he keeps them pried open and locked on the boy ahead of him.

There is one syllable punctuating each footfall, one gong-ring word reverberating through his mind.

Gon sees them then and starts running along the splintered boardwalk leading up to the pier, too, and his arms are spread wide open. Killua thinks he feels himself smiling, but any of his senses not directly related to Gon fade into the background, and so he lets go of Alluka’s hand, sheds their luggage like dead skin, and collides with Gon at a breakneck pace, immediately coiling around him and making plans never to let go. Already he feels like he’s been born again.

They fall, _hard_ \- so hard that Killua is sure he has skinned elbows and bloodied knees - but neither of them makes a sound; they stay glued together, grabbing greedy fistfuls of each other so tight they could leave bruises, and Killua welcomes it; it hurts - his bones ache where Gon’s fingers burn into him and his limbs are shaking from the adrenaline-burst run and his birdwing heart is helium light behind his ribs, unclipped for the first time in years - but it does not hurt more than every second away from Gon had.

Killua is crying before he’s even aware of it.

It’s impossible for them to separate, even when they get up - Killua’s forehead stays wedged in the space between Gon’s neck and shoulder, and Gon’s arms stay wound high around Killua’s back. Alluka joins them after a moment of watching with a soft, knowing smile, wrapping her arms around them both.

“It’s good to see you, Gon,” Alluka says, and the two boys laugh because it _is._

It’s good. Right now, Killua’s good.

 

xii.

 

“Ne, Killua,” Gon says when they’re in bed, lying on their backs. It’s night again. Killua’s not sure how many days have gone by since his outburst.

These days time passes strangely, like Killua is always just waiting for - dreading - the night, and so the day goes by in a crawling heat-haze, too short and too long all at once. He’s never been a fan of summer.

Gon reflects the moonlight through the window like a glowing prism. Killua watches, mesmerized. He is drawn closer by some force he can’t name, but that tugs at his heart and urges him to indulge, despite him knowing he doesn’t quite have the right to, if he’s being honest with himself. He curls into Gon’s side, hums contentedly when Gon’s arm folds around his back, hand warm on his spine.

Gon stares straight ahead, pensive in a way that doesn’t quite suit him, eyes glued to the door. Killua feels his heart sink without really knowing why. He hooks a leg around Gon’s protectively and lets out a relieved breath when Gon nestles closer.

“You really love me, huh?” Gon says distantly, still with that serious look on his face. Killua feels heat crawl into his face, but his expression stays relaxed. He follows Gon’s line of sight to the door.

“Yes,” he says quietly. “But why are you - “

“Because,” Gon interjects, ever the steamroller, and Killua bites his tongue, “because I really love Killua, too. Lots.” His voice has an edge of desperation to it now, betraying an urgent need for Killua to understand whatever it is he’s trying to express. “So knowing that makes me _really_ happy.”

Gon’s neutral expression starts to crack a little, like parchment burning at the edges as it’s held over a candle. The hand pillowing his head scratches nervously at the back of it. His brows furrow, his lips press together.

Killua raises a quizzical eyebrow, warmed by Gon’s words but still confused.

“But I feel like…” Gon continues in a murmur, soft bottom lip caught between his teeth as he goes on studying the door. The arm he has around Killua’s back tightens and finally, _finally_ , Gon meets his eyes. Killua feels a distinct squeeze in his heart that only Gon has ever been able to elicit, something profoundly uncomfortable but good in a way that he’ll never be able to explain. He inches closer, needing to kiss him, but waiting for Gon to finish. Gon clears his throat, blinking slowly, like something about Killua is somehow captivating as well. “I feel like you think it’s just...Ugh, I don’t know.”

Killua feels his breath stick in his throat, his fingers curling into Gon’s shirt reflexively. “Um,” he says cluelessly, and Gon’s face crumbles.

“It’s probably my fault,” Gon adds, and Killua shakes his head in bewildered horror.

“What? No, it’s - of course it’s not your fault. What are you even - “

“Well, but, if Killua’s having doubts, then, then that means I need to be better about telling you! And showing you!”

 _What is he…?_ Killua makes a face, completely lost. “Show me _what_?”

Gon pouts. “Well, _you know_ ,” he says vaguely, and no, Killua has no idea.

The look on Gon’s face makes him laugh, though, distracting him from the edge of tension itching his heart, like Killua is missing something important; like Gon is going to get tired of - well, _everything_ \- and pull the rug out from under Killua before Killua even knows what’s happening. Gon’s pout just intensifies.

“Geez, Killua, I’m trying to be _serious_ ,” he huffs, turning his head back to their door stubbornly. Killua keeps laughing and reaches up to pinch Gon’s cheek, saying “Coulda fooled me.”

( _Serious serious serious serious._ )

Gon lightly smacks Killua’s back, and Killua grins, pushing himself up and climbing on top of Gon, kissing his childish pout away. He sighs into Gon’s mouth, melting against him, their stomachs pressed together and legs tangled intimately. Whatever Gon wanted to talk about can wait, he decides.

Gon kisses him back, but in a way that suggests something is distracting him. Killua sweeps his tongue across Gon’s bottom lip to get his attention, fingers carding through his hair and scratching behind his ear in a way Killua knows he likes. Gon shifts underneath him, and Killua can feel every part of him. He’s so incredibly _warm_ and Killua keeps arching closer, licking around in Gon’s mouth, moaning pleasurably, but Gon is tapping his shoulder, hesitantly pulling his lips away from Killua’s.

“Killua,” he says, muffled against Killua’s mouth. Killua relents and ducks his head under Gon’s jaw instead, sucking welts into his skin. Gon’s fingers curl into the patch of shirt covering Killua’s shoulder. “ _Nnn_ , Killua, wait.”

Killua hums, licking over the bruise he just left and then nibbling Gon’s ear. “What?” he whispers, propping himself up on one elbow and using his other arm to reach between them, hand splaying out over Gon’s abdomen, under his shirt. The flesh there is warm and soft, but then Gon shifts again and his muscles flex and harden and Killua dips his fingers into the valleys between them.

Gon catches his wrist gently, stopping it in its tracks. He pushes at Killua’s shoulder, not harsh but insistent. “Killua, c’mon,” he chuckles, and now it’s Killua’s turn to pout. “I wanna talk.”

Killua raises his head again, face now inches above Gon’s. He licks his lips and says “I’d rather kiss.”

Gon rolls his eyes. “Killua, it’s important,” he urges. More tension wedges into a corner of Killua’s heart. He falters a little, but recovers quickly.

“Kissing’s important, too,” he argues playfully, leaning in and brushing his lips against Gon’s. Gon turns his head with a frustrated sigh.

“I’m serious, Killua.”

“Me too,” Killua shoots back, grabbing Gon’s hand and pressing light kisses into his palm. Gon pulls away and cups Killua’s cheeks firmly.

“Killua, _listen_ ,” he says, and suddenly Killua really, really doesn’t want to. He has a bad feeling about this - his breaths are coming shorter now, and not from the kissing; goose flesh covers his cold arms; the knot of his and Gon’s legs that had felt intimate before now feels like a trap. Gon’s gaze is so steady, so strong that Killua needs to look away. He feels himself sweating.

“Why won’t you look at me?” Gon demands and Killua flinches. Gon seems to soften a little, one of his thumbs brushing over Killua’s cheekbone. “Sorry,” he adds quickly. “I’m just - frustrated.”

Killua clicks his tongue, still not meeting his eyes. He’s trembling. He hopes Gon doesn’t notice. He flops down on top of him, burrowing his nose into the junction of Gon’s neck and shoulder, arms curling underneath and around Gon. “Can’t we just - “ he tries, and then bites down lightly on Gon’s neck and licks the patch of skin there.

“Killua, I said _no_ ,” Gon nearly shouts in exasperation, and pins Killua on his back against the mattress in one sweeping motion. His hands are hard on Killua’s shoulders, his eyes piercing, saying _Enough_ . Killua freezes up in quiet horror, feeling more cold sweat on the back of his neck along with ancient fight or flight instincts kicking in. Gon doesn’t relent, this time, saying “ _Look at me_ ,” and leaving no room for argument.

Something in Killua’s gut flares; he bares his teeth like a cornered cat. “ _What_ , Gon?” he bites out, entire body buzzing, his lungs burning for air. His hands clench into tight fists, his nails dig half moons into his palms.

Gon looks just as mad. “Why don’t you - “ Gon starts, but then cuts himself off with an angry but quizzical shake of his head. “Why are you so afraid of _talking to me_?”

Killua almost growls, eyes darting frantically around the room - even with the fire in his blood, he is not brave enough to look Gon in the eyes. He shivers, his body fluctuating between hot and cold like he’s sick with a fever. He still can’t breathe. “ _I don’t know_ ,” Killua grits out, feral and ready to bolt if he has to, but Gon’s hands are firm on his shoulders, keeping him there.

“Yes, you do,” Gon argues hotly, crowding Killua against the mattress.

Killua blinks, boiling with nervous energy that has nowhere to go; he can’t move with Gon hounding him like this. “How are you so sure?” Killua demands indignantly. His eyes squeeze shut.

Gon grits his teeth. “Because _I_ know the answer, too, Killua! I’m not _stupid_!” His fingers tighten their grip on Killua’s shoulders to the point where it’s painful, digging into him easily, as if Killua is made of sand. Killua shudders. If Gon notices, he doesn’t show it.

Killua scoffs, convincing himself that he’s not petrified; that his dizzying headrush is anger-borne rather than the prelude to a panic attack. “Well, fucking enlighten me, Gon,” he laughs sharply, daringly. Finally, he meets Gon’s eyes. “What the fuck is it?”

Gon’s anger boils over; his entire body vibrates and twitches as he roars, “ _It’s because you don’t trust me!_ ” so loud the entire street probably heard it, but that’s not what makes Killua burn, not what makes him want to hiss and claw and _run, run, run_.

Killua feels a bitter taste in his mouth and a  sudden flash of a need to hurt Gon the way Gon had hurt him.

“ _Well_ _whose fucking fault do you think that is, huh?!_ ” Killua snaps back, and never in his life has he felt regret so instantaneously as he does right now, as he watches the anger slip out of Gon’s face and shatter like a glass mask, leaving his expression eerily blank.

Killua’s patchwork heart breaks apart familiarly, and it feels like being stabbed over and over again, always in the same spot - Killua should know. His mouth snaps shut, his eyes wide and unblinking. The blood drains from his face and freezes into crushed ice.

Gon’s hold on Killua’s shoulders is weak, his hands trembling.

“I _know_ ,” Gon says, voice high and splintered. “I _know that_ , that’s - that’s why - “

Killua is shaking his head already. “No,” he says hoarsely. “No, Gon, it’s not your fault.” Killua would say anything, would do anything, to keep that broken look off of Gon’s face. He reaches up, shaky hands cupping Gon’s jaw, trying to put him back together, somehow. “I’m sorry,” he says desperately, “I didn’t mean it, I just - “

“Yes, you did,” Gon argues in a shuddering breath. “You did - and it’s okay. I’m not angry; not at you.” His eyes shine with unshed tears and, god, how is Killua _ever_ going to fix this?

Killua lets out a stuttering breath, thumbs rubbing Gon’s cheeks. “I don’t know what you want from me,” he says blankly, horrified with himself, with the fact that he’s _telling Gon this_ \- because now Gon _knows_ , and now why would he want to stay? “I don’t know how to help you.” He blinks, mouth hanging open. He’s looking at Gon - looking through him, like an empty window.

Gon shifts above him, balancing on one hand and using the other to brush his thumb over Killua’s bottom lip. Killua jerks at the contact, and Gon pulls his hand back like he’s been burned. He settles it neutrally on the pillow by Killua’s head.

Killua watches the emotions pass over Gon’s face, transparent in a way Killua could never manage even if he tried. Gon is gnawing on his bottom lip, thinking. Killua observes, catatonic.

“I’m sorry I yelled,” Gon whispers.

“It’s okay,” Killua whispers back, expression unchanging. What will Gon apologize for next?

 _Leaving_ , his mind supplies, and then shuts down altogether.

“Killua,” Gon says quietly, evenly, “I’m worried about you.”

“It’s okay,” Killua repeats.

“Killua,” Gon says again, voice quivering, and his hand touches Killua’s cheek slowly now, fingers first and feather-light. He leans down, kisses Killua firmly on the lips. When he pulls back, his breath is choppy and near silent. “Killua, can you hear me?”

Killua blinks slowly, trying to remind himself where he is. His body has stopped existing, it seems, except where Gon is touching him. It strikes him suddenly that he has been asked a question. “Yes,” he breathes.

Gon nods slightly. “Okay. So listen, okay? Just listen.”

Killua doesn’t nod, but his eyes flit towards Gon’s and stick there.

“I love you, Killua,” he tells him, voice dripping with sincerity. Killua wants to turn his head away, but Gon grabs him gently by the chin, and Killua’s shining eyes look up at him again. “ _I love you._ And it’s obvious that...that we have some problems, you and me. But I want you to know that, no matter what…” The words pour from Gon’s lips like water, and Killua drinks it all in in silence, his dry mouth recovering slowly. Gon leans down again, lips ghosting over Killua’s as he says, “I will never, _ever_ leave you. You don’t have to worry. I promise you. Okay?”

Killua feels like he’s bleeding, the tension and the fear and the adrenaline oozing out of him until he’s left a tired, boneless puddle on the mattress and he says “Okay.”

Gon climbs off of him, but clings to his side when he lies down next to him, head resting on Killua’s chest. “Tell me everything, Killua,” Gon breathes, hand rubbing warm patterns over Killua’s torso. “I promise I won’t be mad. I just want to know. I want to do better.”

Killua takes a few deep breaths, slowly moving his arms so they’re draped over Gon loosely. He thinks about it. If Gon needs him to talk, he’ll talk.

“I just...wanted to be your friend,” he says, starting from the beginning. Gon tenses up just a little. Killua fights down the anxiety rising in his throat like bile, like half-digested figs, eyes clenching shut. “That’s it. But Illumi…” he gulps, rewinds, starts again. “I wasn’t sure I had the right. The whole Zoldyck thing, you know. It’s hard. To get past that.”

Gon nods in acknowledgement, but says nothing, waiting for Killua to continue.

“But you were...you _are_ everything. And I just wanted to help, back then, with the ants and Pitou and Kite - “ Gon’s hold on him tightens “ - And, and you shut me out. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized you always sort of had.” Killua’s expression sours, twisting uncomfortably. “You’re stubborn. You always want to save the day and you leave me in the dust. And, and it _sucked_ , Gon.”

Gon tilts his face up, kisses Killua’s wet cheek - when did he start crying? Killua laughs dryly in sudden remembrance.

“I fucking cried. In front of _Palm_ ,” he says self-deprecatingly, shaking his head and covering his eyes with his hand. “I had a breakdown in front of the most unstable woman on the planet. Talk about mortifying. All because I didn’t know how to help you. I guess I couldn’t.”

Gon nuzzles into Killua’s shoulder, leaving a few kisses there.

“I know you have this weird hero-complex or whatever,” Killua goes on, and Gon makes a quiet noise of protest, but Killua presses on. “And that you just want to protect your friends, bla bla bla, sunshine and rainbows, what the fuck ever, but _fuck_ , Gon, I,” Killua hisses in a breath, and the memory is fresh in his mind - Gon’s back turned, his fist so tight Killua had thought his skin might burst - “My fucking world ended. And you have _no idea_ how fucking terrifying it was, seeing you in that hospital bed.”

Killua’s throat closes up, the unspoken words sticking there suffocating him, and he has to take a moment to clutch at the arm Gon has slung over his waist, has to pinch and prod at his skin and count his fingers to make sure he’s still Gon.

“You were dead because I couldn’t help you,” Killua finishes in a frightened whisper, but then Gon is kissing him, so gently that Killua’s mind and body both slow down like a spent wind-up toy. His arms come around Gon’s neck, somehow much lighter than before, and Gon is half on top of him and kissing him and kissing him and kissing him. “You know that’s not true,” Gon mumbles in between kisses, “Right, Killua?”

Killua turns his head. Gon’s lips fall on the corner of Killua’s jaw, and he improvises, kissing a path from there to his collarbone. Killua sighs tiredly. “You told me to be honest, and I was,” he says quietly.

Gon hums. “Yeah,” he relents, “I guess you’re right.” There’s a pause that Killua spends with his eyes closed, listening to the soft noises coming from Gon’s lips as he kisses Killua’s neck, feeling the cool breeze blowing through the window and rustling their curtains that somewhat makes up for their lack of air conditioning.

“I know this isn’t your fault,” Killua hears Gon say suddenly, his tone rising in a way that suggests he isn’t finished, and braces himself, “but it’s like...your entire sense of self worth centers around _me_.”

Killua holds his breath.

It’s true. Gon is the metric Killua has been using to judge himself for years now, and he’s not sure how to stop. “I’m sorry,” he says instinctively, just above a whisper.

Gon shakes his head. “It’s okay. We’ll work on it.” He chuckles quietly. “You’re bad for my ego, Killua.”

Killua hums. “ _Ego_ ,” he repeats, mulling it over, his hand cradling the back of Gon’s head, still dipped into the crook of Killua’s neck. “I wouldn’t call it that.”

Gon shifts, nuzzling Killua’s collarbone. “What would Killua call it?” he wonders, yawning. Killua yawns, too, and wracks his suddenly exhausted brain for the right word.

“Hmm,” he hums. “It’s more like...you’re really self-centered.” Gon squawks, offended. Killua laughs a little. “Not necessarily in a cocky way. It’s like you need to do everything yourself. And you’re too proud and stubborn to let people help you.”

Gon laughs sheepishly. Killua lightly smacks him upside the head. “And by ‘people’ I mean _me_ , by the way. Your _best friend_.”

Gon whines. “I get it, I get it,” he groans, burying his face further into Killua’s collarbone. Something seems to occur to him, suddenly, and he makes a muffled noise of surprise before lifting his head, chin resting on Killua’s chest. “Ne, Killua?”

“Hm?”

“Are we best friends still?”

Killua blanches. “Oh, fuck no, you are _not_ doing this to me right now,” Killua laughs, pinching Gon’s cheek _hard_ . “ _Rude_.”

“Thash noh whah I meanth!” Gon insists quickly, frantically waving his hands. Killua releases him, sharp eyes skeptical. Gon rubs his abused cheek but recovers from the mild pain quickly.

“It’s just,” he begins innocently, “Killua, we live together and we hug and kiss and,” he pauses, grinning and blushing pink, “do _other stuff_ ,” Killua smacks his palm to his forehead and scrubs it down his defeated face, “so aren’t we, like…”

He looks at Killua meaningfully. Killua looks away, grimacing.

“ _Well_ ,” Gon urges, pushing himself up into a sitting position. Killua misses the weight on his chest and crosses his arms over it defiantly. “ _You know_.”

“I don’t want to say it,” Killua groans. Just thinking it makes him... _tingly_.

Gon giggles. Killua glances over to him, tracing the curve of his smile with his eyes. “ _Boyfriends_ ,” Gon says in a clandestine whisper with a hand cupped around his mouth.

Killua scratches his head. “I-I don’t know,” he says feebly. “It feels too...flighty.”

Gon hums. “True…” he says thoughtfully, a finger tapping his lips as he considers their options. “Partners?” he offers.

Killua wrinkles his nose. “That just makes us seem _old_. Like Leorio and Kurapika.”

“Well,” Gon says casually, “we could get married. Then we’d be husbands - “

Killua sucks in a quick breath, bristling as his cheeks go numb with color. “ _Gon!_ ” he sputters, blindly scrabbling for a pillow and launching it at Gon’s face. Gon starts barking with laughter, taking the pillow and pouncing on top of Killua with it in an attempt to smother him. Killua tickles Gon’s sides, smirking when he hears a startled _Eep!_ and flipping their positions. They kick and yelp and pinch and eventually wrestle each other out of bed and onto the floor, laughing raucously until Alluka comes stomping down the hall and into their room, not saying a word but wearing a look that says Killua isn’t the only one with assassin’s skills, and that she could prove it.

That night, Killua does not dream, and he wakes up to the sound of the bustling townspeople in the street below their apartment and Gon’s hair tickling his nose. He breathes in the fresh morning air with a lazy smile on his face. Gon stirs, holding Killua tighter. Killua reaches down to pet through his hair and opens his eyes, welcoming the light that filters into the room from outside.

He tries to think of something that’s bothering him and comes up with nothing. He smiles wider.

Alluka knocks on the door. “Onii-chan? Gon?” she asks gently. Killua suddenly really wants to see her.

“Come in,” he tells her, voice a little hoarse from sleep but somehow miraculously un-tired. Alluka cracks the door open and slips through, still in her loose-fitting peach nightgown, her hair a messy whirlwind over her shoulders. Killua beckons her over and she grins with her bottom lip between her teeth. She tiptoes to the bed and crawls under the covers on Killua’s side, and he uses the arm not around Gon to hold her against him. She cuddles up to him, her head tucked under his chin. Some of her tangled hair gets stuck in his mouth and he sputters, pinching her on the arm. She pinches him back.

“Is Gon asleep, still?” she asks softly, relaxing into the mattress.

“Sure is,” Killua sighs fondly. He scratches lightly behind Gon’s ear.

Alluka tilts her head to the side. “I’m actually surprised _you’re_ up already. It’s just past eight.”

Killua makes a face. “Well, now I want to go back to sleep, just on principle,” he jokes and Alluka snorts a laugh.

“Before you do,” she wriggles around under the sheets, tongue peeking out of the corner of her mouth. She pulls her hand out from under the blanket and in it is Killua’s phone. “Here. You left this in the living room. It kept buzzing so I wanted to give it back. ‘Leorio’ keeps texting you.”

That catches Killua off-guard. He swipes his phone out of Alluka’s grasp and says “Don’t snoop,” while giving her a light noogie. She whines.

“I _wasn’t_ ,” she argues defensively, swatting Killua’s fist away. “I just picked it up and his name popped up on screen. Whatever he’s texting you about, it must be important.”

Killua laughs dryly. “Doubt it,” he says and unlocks his phone.

Three missed calls, seven new text messages, and one voicemail, which Killua already knows he won’t bother with. Bracing himself, he opens up his messages and grimaces at the onslaught of text.

_Hey, Killua! It’s been a while. Which is totally your fault, by the way. Seriously, you’re just as bad as Kurapika when it comes to returning calls._

Killua visibly rolls his eyes, and Alluka decides suddenly that she _does_ want to snoop, craning her neck to get a look at Killua’s phone screen.

_Anyway, I actually have a reason for texting you this time. Ha-ha, yeah, it’s incredible, I know - get that look off your face!_

Killua smiles a little at that. He can picture Leorio’s irritated expression the same way Leorio could evidently picture Killua’s smug one. He remembers the petty arguments they used to have with fondness.

 _Kurapika and I are gonna be in town next week_ , Killua reads and blinks owlishly. _As in, your town. Where you and Gon live. Weird choice, by the way - not much going on there besides there being a beach, is there? Hell, me and Kurapika are only going because of you two. There, I said it. We miss you guys._

“No way,” Killua laughs in disbelief. They had made plans to visit without even asking. Had Kurapika actually agreed to this? Killua can see Alluka grinning in his peripheral vision, her breath hitching delightedly, and he reads on.

_Okay, Kurapika is giving me a dirty look. They’re reading this over my shoulder. I may have implied that I had already checked with you guys before we made plans. But honestly, you guys are so hard to get in touch with, I figured if I did ask, I wouldn’t get confirmation until at least, like, six months later. So consider this text a warning: we’re coming, whether you like it or not! So be ready!!_

_And oh, yeah - we can’t wait to finally meet your sister!_

Alluka giggles and nudges Killua in the side with her elbow. “That’s me!” she squeaks excitedly. Killua smiles, feeling his heart expand in excitement as well.

_Give everyone our best. And actually text me back when you see this, jerk!_

_See you soon._

“I don’t believe it,” Killua chuckles, dumbfounded. His heart is thrumming with joy that he’s not sure how to express. It makes him feel like his whole body is vibrating. “They’re coming.”

“Who’s coming?” Gon yawns suddenly, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. Killua turns to give him a fond look and wipe the drool off of the corner of his mouth. “Ah, it’s Alluka!” Gon realizes brightly. He scoots away from Killua and pats the stretch of mattress between them like an overeager puppy. Alluka giggles, getting the message and climbing over Killua clumsily to flop down between him and Gon. She snuggles up to Gon and he envelopes her in his arms, closing his eyes and smiling contentedly.

Killua’s eyes almost water at the sight. He turns on his side, chest pressed against Alluka’s back.

“Leorio and Kurapika,” he says, mouth twisting awkwardly as he tries not to smile too widely.

“Huh?” Gon says, eyes blinking open in surprise.

“Leorio and Kurapika are coming.” Killua bites his bottom lip, eagerly anticipating Gon’s response. He is not disappointed.

“ _Ehh?!_ ” comes Gon’s drawn out gasp, his body shooting into a sitting position. “Killua, really?! Leorio and Kurapika are coming?!”

Killua sits up as well, nodding happily. “Yup. Leorio texted me. They’ll be here next week.”

Gon brightens, a happy blush blooming on his face like Alluka’s flowers on the windowsill, and he starts bouncing up and down, the mattress squeaking as he exclaims “That’s _awesome_ ! We haven’t seen them in forever! This is so amazing, I can’t believe it!” He goes on rambling in excitement, clambering out of bed and sprinting to the open window, almost falling out as he grips the sill and shouts “ _Leorio and Kurapika are coming!_ ” at all the unsuspecting townspeople below.

Killua collapses on his back in laughter at the absurdity of Gon’s behavior (which he probably should have expected in hindsight), then rolls over and gathers his sister in a big hug. She kicks her legs and squeals when he plants a wet kiss on her cheek, saying “Oh, man, Alluka, you’re gonna love them! They’re, like, some of the weirdest people you’ll ever meet, but - “

“I don’t want to hear that from you,” Alluka laughs, blue eyes squinted and milky skin flushed beautifully. She rubs the wet spot on her cheek where Killua kissed her and wipes off her fingers on his cheek in turn. Killua jabs a finger into her side in retaliation, his grin making his own eyes crinkle now, his cheeks aching.

Something thumps against Killua’s back all of a sudden, knocking the wind out of him and flattening him on top of Alluka.

“We’re gonna have so much fun!” Gon shouts gleefully from above Killua. Killua agrees silently, but wrestles Gon off of him so he can catch his uneven breath, pinning him to the mattress with his wrists crossed above his head. Alluka is grateful for it, practically gasping for air as she laughs, a happy, tangled mess in the sheets as Killua rolls onto his back. The three of them lie there for a long time, their puffs of breathy laughter filling the room and lulling Killua into a relaxed state - the kind that he hasn’t felt in a long, long time.

It feels strange to think about the future, about Leorio and Kurapika, about him and Gon doing better, about Alluka meeting his long lost friends, and to be certain that things are going to be just fine.

He reaches for Gon’s hand, then his sister’s, and says “How long do you think Leorio can go without a text back before he loses his mind and starts leaving angry voicemails?”

 

xiii.

 

Alluka spends the three days preceding Leorio and Kurapika’s arrival scrubbing every inch of the apartment until it sparkles, from the coffee rings stuck on the kitchen counter to the dirt surrounding the flowerbeds on the windowsills. It becomes rare for Killua to see her without her sleeves rolled up and her hair in a messy ponytail so it stays out of the way while she cleans.

He insists that it’s really no big deal; that Leorio and Kurapika are good friends that “don’t really give two shits” about the state of their apartment. If Killua remembers correctly, Kurapika had spent a few months living in the damn woods with some greasy nen teacher to train, and it’s not like Leorio is particularly formal, either, with his tacky threads. Killua doesn’t get it.

“ _I_ give _lots_ of shits,” Alluka counters, turning to him and waving her feather duster dangerously. Killua grimaces at her wording. He remembers when she used to gasp behind her tiny hand and apologize for saying _heck_ . _Where did the time go?_ Killua thinks wistfully as he takes a cautionary step back from her, arms raised defensively. Alluka puts both hands on her hips, huffing in frustration and blowing wisps of stray hair out of her face. She ends up getting some in her mouth and sputters comically. Killua snorts a laugh, but plays it off as him clearing his throat when Alluka’s glare sharpens.

“This is _your_ apartment, too, you know,” Alluka reminds him pointedly. Her sour look melts into something a little less threatening - more exasperated than irritated. “Seriously, if it weren’t for me, you and Gon would be living in dirty laundry and chocorobo-kun boxes,” she sighs, gesturing to the overflowing trash bag in the corner of the living room.

She’s totally right, but Killua isn’t going to tell her that.

“Okay, _one_ ,” Killua starts firmly, walking over and pressing the familiar chocorobo boxes deeper into the bag with his foot before they all fall out - he stumbles a little, having to balance on one leg - “I would _love_ to live surrounded by chocorobo-kuns. They’re delicious and amazing, and they don’t go on manic cleaning sprees. So shut up.”

Alluka raises a challenging eyebrow at him, crossing her arms over her chest. Killua ignores her and ties the trash bag shut tightly, slinging it over his shoulder. He walks past Alluka to the door to find his shoes, saying “Second, _you’re_ the one who leaves her hair ties and nail polish everywhere. So. Glass huts and stones and all that.” He toes on his sneakers as Alluka glares at him.

“Yeah, well, we don’t live in a hut,” Alluka tells him, “glass or otherwise. So I’ll cast as many stones as I want unless you get your ass in gear.”

Killua blanches, laughing in disbelief. “You’re mean today!” he says accusingly, jabbing a finger in her direction.

Alluka’s stony expression cracks into a begrudging smile. “Go take out the trash,” she tells him, “and then come help me with laundry.”

Killua shakes his head, turning the doorknob and slipping out. “Sure thing, _bossy_ ,” he mutters, and Alluka laughs.

Gon comes home a little later, saddled with grocery bags that have baguette-ends and bottle-necks and coupons sticking out - the lady at the shop always gives Gon extra ones. Killua is convinced she has a thing for him, but if it means they spend less money on food, he’s okay with it.

The three of them team up to put away the groceries, finish vacuuming, and scrape together spare bed sheets and pillows for their incoming guests. _Tomorrow_ , Killua thinks, uncharacteristically giddy as he braids Alluka’s hair for her, sitting criss-cross on her bed. _Tomorrow_ , he thinks while he brushes his teeth, smiling at himself in the stainless bathroom mirror. _Tomorrow_ , he thinks, turning out the lights and kissing Gon goodnight before he curls up in bed, for once not annoyed by the humid summer air.

_Tomorrow._

 

* * *

 

Leorio is in another one of his tacky suits and Kurapika has seemingly changed their hair yet again when Killua spots them on the crowded train platform. He grins brightly and stands up on his tip-toes, waving his whole arm in wide, sweeping motions like he’s been thrown overboard into a sea of people and is trying to gesture for a little help. Kurapika jerks their head in his direction when they notice and, if Killua’s eyes haven’t been completely blinded by the sun, smiles a little before tapping Leorio (who is unknowingly about to march off in the wrong direction) on the shoulder.

“Killua, do you see them?” Gon asks excitedly and squints his eyes, holding his flat hand against his brow to keep the sun out of them as he searches. “Where, where are they?”

“Yeah, onii-chan, _where_?” Alluka pesters, grabbing Killua by the sleeve and jostling him urgently.

“Don’t worry,” Killua laughs placatingly, “They’re on their way.”

“ _Ah_ !” Gon gasps suddenly in recognition, absolutely beaming. He jumps up and down, waving his arms and shouting “ _Leorio! Kurapika!_ ” The people standing around them seem annoyed at his volume, but Gon either doesn’t notice or he just doesn’t care, so Killua decides it’s not worth worrying about. Alluka stretches at his side, pouting cutely because she still has no idea where Leorio and Kurapika are - probably, Killua realizes belatedly, because she doesn’t know what they look like.

Killua is distracted from his thoughts when Gon grabs both him and his sister by the wrists, dragging them through the crowd in what Killua guesses is an attempt to meet their friends halfway; patience was never Gon’s strong suit, and in this case, it isn’t Killua’s either.

They meet surrounded by foreign elbows jabbing their arms and briefcase corners that knock into their thighs, Gon rushing forward to gather both Leorio and Kurapika in a big, sweaty hug.

“ _Guys_!” he laughs, rocking them back and forth. Kurapika gives Killua a look that’s surprisingly fond, but reserved, over Gon’s shoulder while Leorio sobs shamelessly into Gon’s shirt. “It’s been so long!”

Kurapika pats Gon on the back, closing their eyes and saying “It has. It’s good to see you, Gon.”

“I promised myself I wouldn’t cry,” Leorio sniffles weakly and Killua and Kurapika roll their eyes in unison.

“That sure worked out,” Killua laughs, hands in his pockets, and is suddenly trapped in a hug himself, his feet lifting off the ground and dangling freely as he’s hoisted up into Leorio’s embrace.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook, buddy,” Leorio snickers through his tears, and Killua feels himself flushing red. “Sass me all you want, you’re still getting hugged.”

Killua’s lip wobbles dangerously. “You’re getting _snot_ on my _shirt_ ,” he complains feebly, kicking his legs. He can hear - almost _feel_ \- Kurapika, Alluka, and Gon laughing at him. “Put me down, old man.” He huffs hotly, then mumbles: “I get it, alright? We missed you, too.”

“Good,” Leorio sniffs and then drops him. Killua stumbles, then socks him in the arm. Leorio snickers infectiously while Kurapika politely introduces themselves to Alluka, a hand over their heart, and Killua thinks _Yeah, okay. I really did miss them._

“Wipe the snot off your face,” he orders Leorio sternly with a smirk that softens at the edges, his eyes shining and ruining the effect, “and then come meet my sister.”

 

* * *

 

Leorio and Kurapika fall in love with Alluka instantly. Killua feels his heart swell with pride; Alluka, despite being the amalgam of all things soft and beautiful and glittering and sweet, does not have many friends, so it’s exciting to see her come out of her shell and ask about what Killua and Gon were like when they were twelve, or where they’ve been on their travels, or _Leorio, you’re a doctor?_ , or _Kurapika, where did you get those earrings?_

He shares a happy look with Gon and reaches for his hand, squeezing it tightly. Gon squeezes back.

“It’s cleaner than I expected,” is the first thing Kurapika says when they get back to the apartment, and Alluka’s head whips around so she can silently mouth _I told you so!_ at her brother. Killua sticks his tongue out at her indignantly.

They all shuffle in, leaving their shoes by the door and migrating toward the living room. Gon asks if their guests want anything to eat or drink; Leorio asks about beer, Kurapika’s fine with water. Alluka sits next to them on the couch, grossly exaggerating how hard it was to motivate her brother to clean, in Killua’s opinion, but it makes everyone laugh, so Killua just pulls up a chair from the kitchen table and doesn’t complain.

They eat fruit and play cards. Killua cheats, but Kurapika ends up winning anyway. Leorio offers to grab Killua and Gon some beers when he goes to the kitchen to find a second one for himself.

“I don’t drink,” Killua replies flatly and Alluka snickers. It takes a minute for Gon to get why, but then he’s ducking his head down in repressed laughter as well, and Killua’s eye twitches in silent annoyance. He steals a glance at their cards when they’re not looking.

And that’s when the stories start; not just about Killua’s drunk sobbing (“You laugh now, Alluka, but the amount of dirt I have on you is _frightening_ , so _shut it_.”), but also about the time Leorio and Kurapika almost threw each other overboard a boat, even though they had only just met that day. “Love at first sight,” Gon teases, and Kurapika and Leorio clear their throats.

About the time Gon wouldn’t give up a fight even though his arm was broken and his opponent was getting impatient, just because he refused to simply win by default He rubs the back of his neck, rosy cheeks stretched wide in a sheepish grin.

About how the first thing Killua did after he passed the Hunter Exam was spend twenty million jenny on _chocorobo-kun’s_

“Onii-chan, you _didn’t_ ,” Alluka groans. Killua crosses his arms and states “I did, and I’d do it again.”

About the time Leorio allegedly punched Ging, professional hunter and deadbeat dad extraordinaire, square in the jaw. Gon still doesn’t seem to know what to think of that, but Killua is absolutely howling with laughter, and Kurapika and Alluka join in. Leorio’s spine straightens proudly as he basks in the nonverbal praise - and, really, punching Ging is probably his greatest life achievement, as far as Killua is concerned. He’d actually like a turn himself.

They laugh and they reminisce and Alluka leans forward with her elbows on her knees and her hands framing her face, eyes big in wonder. Killua smiles at her crookedly, glad she’s eager to listen rather than feeling left out. At some point he joins Gon on the floor, just to be able to knock their shoulders together when he says something silly and lean in close to whisper snide remarks whenever Leorio opens his mouth; ones that Kurapika will overhear and snicker at themself.

When Gon casually laces his fingers with Killua’s in the middle of a story Killua’s not really paying attention to anymore, Killua notes the interesting look Kurapika and Leorio share, despite not being able to interpret it. He brushes it off, and eventually the room stills, its occupants slipping into a companionable silence.

“This is nice,” Kurapika says thoughtfully, rippling the quietness of the apartment, eyes studying something somewhere far away - a memory somewhere at the bottom of the cup they’re holding, maybe. Leorio’s enthusiastic grin melts into something less sharp, more gentle. Alluka sighs contentedly, relaxing against the couch cushions. Gon’s head nestles into Killua’s shoulder. There’s another look from Kurapika, but Killua knows what to make of this one - fondness, just a little bit of awe. They recover. “Thank you for hosting us,” they say gratefully, “despite the _short notice_.” They give Leorio, who is conveniently staring in the opposite direction, a pointed look.

Killua does his best not to smile. “No need to be so formal,” he says casually, subconsciously reaching an arm around Gon’s back and rubbing his thumb at the perfect jut of his shoulder blade. He is aware of Kurapika’s clever eyes, but he doesn’t blush and sputter under their gaze the way he might have done a few years ago, and his arm stays right where it is. “It’s no big deal.”

The conversation fizzles out, and by the time everyone decides they’re ready for bed, Alluka is already slumped over and dozing on Kurapika’s shoulder. If they notice the small drool stain she’s creating on their shoulder, they don’t say anything about it. In fact, they seem almost flattered, brimming with quiet delight.

“You have a very sweet sister, Killua,” they say, hesitating for a moment before lightly patting Alluka’s head. Alluka stirs, but then relaxes once more. Kurapika sighs quietly in relief.

Killua smiles proudly. “Right? She’s the cutest,” he agrees, walking over and tucking some of her hair behind her ear. He pulls down his sleeve far enough that it hooks around his thumb and uses it to dry the spit at the corner of her mouth. “Kinda gross,” he continues in a chuckle, “but still the cutest.”

He feels two familiar arms wind around his waist from behind and immediately melts into the contact. “Killua’s the cutest, too,” Gon’s voice says, his forehead pressed warmly against the back of Killua’s neck. Killua flushes, his smile wobbly. He puts his hands over Gon’s, which are clasped loosely over his stomach.

“We’ve talked about this,” Killua reminds him, his teasing tone contradicting the hot red covering his cheeks. “I’m _cool_ , remember? Not cute.”

Gon rests his chin on Killua’s shoulder, one eyebrow raised. “But Killua, you’re blushing really hard right now,” he points out, in typical, unassuming Gon fashion.

Killua laughs. “Shut up,” he tells him, shoving Gon’s head off his shoulder. Gon only hugs him tighter, laughing brightly and blowing a raspberry under Killua’s ear. Killua tries to wrestle him off, Gon jabs his hands under Killua’s arms and wiggles his fingers, Killua grabs them and yanks them away. Soon enough they’re palm-to-palm, their whole bodies pushing at each other through their hands to see who will buckle first, the carpet wrinkling under their firm feet.

“It’s like,” Leorio says suddenly, and Killua remembers he and Gon are not the only ones in the room, “you’re still twelve, but you’re not.” Killia turns to see Leorio with his elbows on the kitchen counter, expression wistful. It doesn’t make him look any younger, but Killua keeps that thought to himself. Leorio tilts his head back, looking up at the ceiling pensively. “Like you two haven’t changed, but you have.”

The boys don’t reply, and soon everyone is getting ready for bed. Alluka hugs them all good night, including Leorio and Kurapika, before trudging off to her room and closing the door with a loud yawn. Gon helps Leorio with the pull-out couch. Before Killua leads Kurapika to the bathroom, he sees Leorio hook an arm around Gon’s shoulders and pull him in close, the two of them laughing about something Killua must have missed, but he supposes it doesn’t matter. Killua’s cheeks are aching from how much he’s smiled that day already, but he finds himself doing so again anyway and revels in the sting.

When he comes back to himself, Kurapika is watching him closely, their eyes studious; clever; deep; and Killua doesn’t have to see them turn red to know why they are so sought after.

“I’m proud of you,” Kurapika says simply, and of all the things Killua might have guessed would come out of their mouth, he never could have imagined them saying _that_.

Killua blinks. “Uh?” he responds intelligently.

Kurapika breathes out a laugh. “You don’t look away when Gon smiles at you anymore,” they explain. Killua doesn’t get the chance to reflect on this before Kurapika is saying, “It’s good to see you two again.”

 

xiv.

 

It happens in the marketplace while Killua is begrudgingly elbow deep in a sack of grain.

“A family shopping trip,” Gon had called it, dragging Killua, who held Alluka’s hand, who tugged Kurapika by the wrist, who grabbed Leorio by the tie, out the door.

The marketplace is the town’s biggest attraction, besides the beach, which does not say much. Still, Killua finds it strangely picturesque; stalls and carts brimming with goods from belt buckles to fresh sugar dates line the edges of the main square, run by loud vendors and travelling merchants that are up for haggling if you are. When the market opens every saturday morning, the town square becomes an explosion of sound and color, and it gets hard to walk without bumping shoulders with someone.

Gon, however, plows right through the crowd, dragging Killua (and, by extension, the rest of their group) to stall after stall. His eyes light up when he sees a basket of figs in one of them and he makes a beeline for them while Killua grimaces. He’ll never eat figs again; he’s known that for a while.

Leorio sees a tea set in the stall adjacent to the one Gon is standing in front of and argues its price with the merchant while Kurapika stands dutifully at his side. Alluka is sifting through a rack of hand-stitched summer dresses a few feet away, making light conversation with the seamstress. Killua checks out barrels and boxes full of fresh fruits and vegetables, pointedly ignoring the figs Gon is salivating over.

“Whoa, Killua, _look_ ,” he gasps suddenly, in awe. Killua turns just in time to see Gon sink his hand into a giant sack of grain, smiling brightly.

Killua squints at him in disbelief. “Hey dummy, that’s unsanitary,” he informs, stepping closer. Gon’s forearm is now almost completely submerged. Killua imagines that he’s wiggling his fingers, feeling the grain slip through them.

“Killua, you try,” Gon insists, grinning encouragingly. “It feels weird.”

Killua looks around to search for any irritated glances being sent their way. “Are you sure we won’t get in trouble? Like, is this allowed?”

Gon laughs. “Sissy,” he says, and pulls Killua’s hand down. The tips of his fingers cut through the grain’s bumpy surface, laced with Gon’s. Gon pulls him down further, laughing at the twisted face Killua’s making at the strange sensation. Killua looks around one more time, once again not finding anyone staring at them, but just before he turns back to the endless sack of grain, he spots something else, distant in the vast and unruly sea of people - long black hair like an oil slick, a pale flash of all-encompassing moonlight arms that could always reach Killua no matter where he hid - and something he does not see, but can _feel_ ; black, almost inhuman eyes, probably looking for Killua right now.

His breath catches in his throat and dies there, his lips sealing shut. There is more white in his eyes than there is blue now, but all Killua can think of is suffocating black; ink staining his skin like he’s paper and then pale fingers tearing right through him. His arm seems to sink deeper into the grain, his heart sinking with it.

He’s here.

He’s going to take Killua away from Gon, from everyone; he’s going to put Alluka back in that room and call her by the wrong pronouns. And if they don’t listen, if they try to fight, he’s going to - to -

Gon is nenless; useless in a fight, no matter how hard he might swing his fists and kick his legs.

Beating him lifeless and bloody would be _easy_ , like swatting a fly or scraping gum off his shoe. Child’s play - except with a body count.

Suddenly, Killua is twelve again. He’s shocked at how much he’s regressed, at how just the sight of _him_ sends him into a chilling downward spiral, like drowning in a freezing lake, but then - it makes sense. Killua is nothing compared to _him_ ; just a tool to be used, a pawn to move across the board. That’s how it’s always been, but - but -

“Killua?” Gon is saying, a fraction of the panic coursing through Killua’s veins underlining his tone. Gon raises their hands, streams of grain pouring down like sand through an hourglass - _time_ , they’re running out of time - _he_ will turn around soon, will spot Killua in the crowd like he’s a beacon; like he has some kind of homing device installed somewhere beneath his skin. A needle, maybe - but _no_ , Killua pulled that out, it’s gone, he can’t control Killua anymore, not like that.

_Can he?_

“We have to go,” Killua says in splintered horror. He digs his fingers into Gon’s hand in a vice grip that has the boy flinching in pain. “We have to leave. All of us. _Right now_.”

Gon looks at Killua, half-bewildered, half-worried, and says, “Killua, _talk_ to me.”

Killua shakes his head, wanting to just pick Gon up and bolt somewhere far away, the rest of their group close behind, but his feet stay rooted where they stand, despite the urgent twitch of his knees. “I - I can’t, there’s no time, he’s _here_ ,” Killua stammers, his vision blurring like that night at the festival - another moment where he didn’t have control, another instance of weakness, another failure - except this time, it’s a lack of oxygen making him dizzy and immobile. That, and the impossibly black eyes flashing through his mind.

When did it get so hard to breathe; why is the air so heavy, so hard to choke down; why isn’t Killua _running_ , he should be _running_ -

“ _Who?_ ” Gon asks urgently, shaking Killua by the shoulders.

A chill runs down Killua’s spine like a slender, cold finger.

“Illumi,” he answers, choking on how wrong the word feels in his mouth, and then, even worse - “ _Aniki_.”

Killua almost faints when a hand claps his shoulder and is too hypersensitive to waste energy feeling embarrassed about it. The hand hooks under his arm, steadying him.

“Everything okay?” Killua vaguely registers Leorio’s voice, barely notices the smaller, gentler hand at his elbow, pays Kurapika’s interrogating stare no mind - there’s another, much more nefarious stare out there somewhere, seeking him out.

“ _What?_ ” Gon asks incredulously, raising his hand to cup Killua’s clammy cheek. “How do you - _where_?” Gon’s fingers are trembling, and when Killua’s eyes flit up to meet his, Gon is seething with barely contained fury, ready to start a fight he couldn’t possibly win.

Killua’s mind races with worst-case scenarios but the exhaustion hits him like a sleeping pill; a poison dart lodged in his chest. “He’s,” Killua starts rawly, glimpsing at the space in the crowd where Illumi is -

Was.

Killua’s eyes slide shut. “ _Gone_ ,” he sighs, collapsing in relief. Alluka and Leorio are the ones to catch him. He hears Kurapika’s calming voice talking Gon down, neutrally asking him what happened, probably with a soothing hand on his shoulder - Kurapika knows a little bit about unchecked rage.

“ _Illumi_ ,” Gon’s voice spits. Killua can practically hear the way he must be baring his teeth, the way his shoes grind into the cobblestone beneath them.

Alluka’s fingers curl into Killua’s sleeve.

“What?” Kurapika asks sharply. “Are you sure?”

“Where is he?!” Leorio demands, voice crackling like a forest fire. He whirls around, scanning the crowd, ready to combust. “I’ve got another shitty family member to punch!”

“I’m with you,” Gon growls dangerously, the expression on his face too violent and distinctly not-Gon for Killua to look at.

“Guys,” Alluka interjects frantically, “ _Please_.” Her shaking arms curl around Killua protectively and the conversation ends there.

Their shopping trip is cut short and they decide to head home. Alluka tries to help Killua walk at first, but he shrugs her off gently, insisting that he’s fine, even if he teeters a little when he walks. By the time they make it back to the apartment, Kurapika has struck up a banal, slightly forced conversation that Killua only half-follows. As soon as they make it through the door, Leorio shuffles into the kitchen and pours himself a cup of water, only to shove it at Killua.

“Why,” Killua says instinctively, drained and numb.

Leorio adjusts his glasses, making a _tch_ sound under his breath. “Panic attacks are about as physically exhausting as running a marathon,” he elaborates, and Killua resents that, just a little. “Hydrate.”

“I wasn’t _panicking_ \- “ he retorts under his breath, but Leorio just holds the cup in front of his face.

“Just take the stupid water,” he says and Killua begrudgingly complies, ending up downing the whole thing in one go. Leorio grins at him smugly when he goes to pour himself some more. Killua deliberately ignores it.

“Lovely bedside manner,” Kurapika praises, patting Leorio’s pointy shoulder. “You’ll make a fine doctor.”

Leorio snorts. “I _will_ make a fine doctor,” he states, shooting Kurapika a side-eyed glance, “and when I do, I’m prescribing you one ass-kicking, on the house. You’re welcome.”

“You couldn’t kick Kurapika’s ass,” Gon argues innocently, making his way to the kitchen and pouring himself some water, too. Killua glances over to him, evaluating his expression and searching for any lingering anger. Gon glances back, smiling apologetically. Killua sighs in relief and sips his water.

Kurapika looks at Leorio smugly, a hand on their hip. Alluka snorts, quickly turning her head away.

Leorio jabs a finger in Gon’s direction. “You know what, Gon?” he starts hotly, and everyone else in the room is already laughing - even _Killua_ \- “You just got yourself a free dose of whoop-ass, too. Who’s next, huh?” He whirls around, glaring at everyone’s snickering faces one by one with narrowed eyes. “You all look like you could use a good ass-kicking.”

Killua side-eyes him smugly. “Aren’t doctors, like,” he chimes in, casually leaning back on the kitchen counter and crossing his legs, “supposed to do the _exact opposite_?”

“He’s not a doctor yet,” Kurapika reminds everyone. Leorio gapes.

“Rub it in, why don’t you,” he says, an exasperated hand over his wounded heart. Kurapika rolls their eyes. They inch closer to Leorio, resting their head on his shoulder, and that seems to shut him up quickly enough.

If Killua hadn’t already heard from Gon, he wouldn’t have guessed Leorio and Kurapika were an item. They still don’t pull any punches when they bicker, and it’s been a _day_ and Killua has yet to see them kiss. He can’t say the same for him and Gon, he realizes, and can’t help but blush. He takes another sip of cool water.

Strangely, the incident in the marketplace seems to have already to slipped his mind, if only for a moment.

He secretly turns to look at Gon, only to find the boy openly staring at him. Killua blinks rapidly in surprise, like a camera shutter. “W-What?” he stammers quietly, discreetly hiding his face behind his now empty cup.

Gon keeps looking at him, totally unguarded. “Nothing,” he tells him simply, and then, “I love you, Killua.”

Killua bristles, back arching like a startled cat’s might, and turns his head to look back at the rest of their group, relieved to find that they’re already preoccupied with something else, Leorio waving his arms animatedly when he speaks.

“You’re so embarrassing,” Killua mutters, reaching for the hand Gon is resting on the counter. Gon curls his fingers around Killua’s palm firmly, beaming at him. “But, uh, me too…”

“Loving Killua is the least embarrassing thing about me,” Gon declares, a little too loudly, and Killua starts shushing him too late. Leorio, Kurapika, and Alluka are staring at them both, now, and Killua’s head feels so hot he’s afraid his skin might burn the roots of his hair.

Kurapika, in their infinite wisdom, graciously tries to start another conversation, moving to stand between Leorio, Alluka, and the kitchen where Gon and Killua are, and it’s so forced and uncomfortable that Killua can’t help but burst out laughing - maybe the manifestation of leftover nervous energy trying to escape him.

Gon joins in almost immediately, and while none of the others find it quite as funny as they do, they smile and joke about Gon making some other kind of grand romantic gesture, like playing a lute to serenade Killua with, or throwing pebbles at Killua’s bedroom window in the middle of the night and sneaking in -

“But I _live_ here,” Gon interrupts Leorio’s rant, somewhere between amused and incredulous.

“You’re not giving him enough credit, Leorio,” Alluka adds. “He’s not that cliché. Like for Valentine’s Day - “

“Alluka, I swear to god,” Killua warns.

“ - He brought, like, fifty stray cats into the apartment since Killua said they were his favorite animal - “

“Holy hell,” Leorio mutters, astonished.

“ - and he said ‘Look, Killua! It’s like a two-way petting zoo! You pet them and they pet you back!’ It was - “

“ - So cute!” Gon interrupts excitedly. He whips his head around to look at Killua, eyes wide and smile radiant. “Right, Killua?”

Killua looks at Gon weakly, not having the heart to tell him anything other than, “It was adorable, Gon.” He smiles crookedly. “Even though my arms got scratched to hell when we tried ushering them out of the house.”

Gon laughs self-consciously.

“I’m still impressed you managed to trap them all in the first place,” Kurapika chuckles.

“Gon, I take it all back,” Leorio says, raising his arms in defeat. “You are the master of un-cliché romantic gestures.”

Gon puffs out his chest proudly, pulling Killua in close. “You hear that, Killua?” he says brightly. Killua rolls his eyes, resting his head on Gon’s shoulder.

“You could learn something from him, Leorio,” Kurapika says mildly, arms crossing. Leorio gives them a blank look.

“You want me to release wild animals into our home,” he deadpans, staring at Kurapika expectantly.

Kurapika wrinkles their nose. “No, you’re right,” they concede. “Stick with the lute.”

“Nope, too late,” Leorio decides. “We’re doing the cat thing.” Kurapika chuckles, rolling their eyes.

Alluka sighs dramatically, plastering herself to the wall. “How is it that I’m the only single one here,” she laments, sliding down the wall until she’s sitting on the floor helplessly. “Even _onii-chan_ managed to trap a man.”

Killua sputters while his so-called friends snicker at him. “Okay, I resent that,” Killua says pointedly, curling his arms around Gon’s waist. “And I thought we agreed no boyfriends until you’re 18.”

Alluka puffs out her cheeks. “I never agreed to that,” she huffs, turning her nose up at her brother and crossing her arms over her chest indignantly.

Killua sighs. “What happened to ‘If onii-chan were the only person in the world who loved me, I would be so happy I couldn’t stop smiling,’ huh?” he taunts, imitating her voice poorly. Alluka goes completely red and sticks her tongue out at him in defiance.

“ _Psst_ , Alluka,” Leorio stage-whispers. “There’s a loophole. Get a _girlfriend_.”

Kurapika snaps their fingers. “Now _there’s_ an idea.”

“Nope,” Killua vetoes, “Nope. Nope. No boyfriends, no girlfriends, no gender neutral friends - _no_.”

Alluka scoffs. “Like you could stop me,” she mutters, and Killua is _this close_ to grounding her. Which he can totally do.

That has everyone laughing, except Killua, this time. He pouts. Gon pats him on the back sympathetically with one hand and laces the fingers on his other with Killua’s, like he had at the marketplace.

Killua retreats into his mind. If he thinks about it rationally, there’s no guarantee that the person he saw there was actually Illumi. Killua hadn’t seen their face, after all. Just inky black hair and white lightning arms. Killua nestles closer into Gon’s side, sighing tiredly.

It’s been so long since he’s spoken with Illumi. Too long since Illumi’s tried to convince Killua to come home, to stop playing pretend, to wake up, because Killua doesn’t deserve friends; doesn’t _need_ them. It would make sense for him to finally pay his darling baby brother another visit.

Killua is certain Illumi knows exactly where he is. Illumi knows _everything_ , sees _all_ . But if that’s the case, and it really _was_ him earlier, why didn’t Illumi come for him right away, there in the marketplace? Was it a warning? Like, _Remember, Kil, what just_ looking _at me does to you._ Was he expecting Killua to go back to the Zoldyck mansion himself with his obedient tail between his legs? Was this a test?

Did Killua fail?

Killua squeezes his eyes shut, listens to his friends’ laughter, feels Gon’s chest vibrate with it soothingly, takes a sobering breath. He holds Gon’s hand tighter. _You know what?_

Fuck all of that, honestly. Illumi can eat shit and die for all Killua cares. He wants to play hide and seek? Well, Killua’s not game. He’s done. Illumi can worry about Killua and their family’s reputation and his weird brother-complex by himself. Killua doesn’t care anymore. It doesn’t matter. If Illumi tries anything, Killua will just have Leorio dish out another ass-kicking of justice - the guy seems eager enough. Kurapika will do their weird chain shit, Alluka will hold Killua’s hand through it all, and Gon will cock his shoulder, channel all of his energy into his fist, and rock forward until his knuckles collide with Illumi’s pasty-ass moonface like the comet that killed the fucking dinosaurs. And if Illumi still hasn’t had enough, well. Killua’s assassin training may come in handy, after all.

He smirks at the irony of giving Illumi a taste of his own shitty medicine. For the first time, he wishes the needle was back in his head, just so Illumi could hear Killua tell him once and for all, unequivocally, to _fuck right off_ , having the homefield advantage of his own mind.

Soon, Killua is joining his friends in blissful laughter, forgetting about his brother completely. Because _this_ \- this city; this room; these people - is far more important. And it’s something even Illumi can’t see.

 

vi.

 

Once Killua can unstick himself from Gon’s side, Alluka takes both boys’ hands and walks between them, telling Gon all about the trip over; how they passed other boats and islands and waved to the people on them, how Killua had gotten seasick (which Killua secretly and correctly attributes to nerves rather than turbulence), how it’s so good to stand on solid land again.

Gon laughs brightly, and Killua is stricken right through the heart. It’s been so long since he’s heard Gon’s laugh, since he’s heard Gon’s voice. Their phone call - all tin and static - doesn’t count; it couldn’t possibly compare to the real thing. In person, Gon’s voice has volume; carries weight. It really has gotten deeper. Killua wonders if Gon is having similar thoughts about hearing his voice, and then realizes he hasn’t really said all that much.

“You’ve gotten taller, Alluka!” he hears Gon say, well-meaningly, but it’s sort of a touchy subject for her. She’s taller than most other girls her age. Killua doesn’t see a problem with it, obviously, but Alluka...worries about this sort of thing. He glimpses at her to gauge her reaction.

“Prettier, too!” Gon adds then, and whatever worry Alluka might have felt about his earlier comment dissipates into chimes of flattered laughter. “You should be careful. There’s not many girls on the island, so you’re probably gonna get a lot of attention while you’re here.”

Killua stares at Gon, horrified. “Over my dead body,” he states, squeezing Alluka’s hand protectively, and Gon laughs again, the sound unraveling in ribbons as it’s carried on the breeze. The corners of Killua’s lips twitch and he’s too distracted to hold back the grin that follows.

They get to Gon’s house the same time Mito-san is in the yard hanging up laundry to dry, clean white sheets billowing in the cool breeze. When she sees the three of them come up the hill, she gasps and smoothes out the wrinkles in her apron before reaching her arms - which are shorter than Killua remembers - up and around his neck, cradling his head against her chest and saying “Welcome home, Killua.”

She’s smaller now - or maybe Killua is just taller - but still has the same all-encompassing warmth that Killua had never felt from his own mother, who was little more than a soulless visor and a shadow on the wall. _Welcome home_ , Killua repeats in his head, hesitantly curling his arms around Mito-san in return, and glances at Gon over her shoulder.

Gon’s eyes are misty like the mountain peaks here, his smile wider than the sea. He’s brimming with emotions Killua couldn’t name, but can _feel_ , as if seeing Killua here with his mother makes him buzz with warmth and excitement.

Mito-san pulls back slowly, gentle like the tide, and grins. Killua knows she’s not Gon’s biological mother, but god does she smile smile like it.

Mito-san gives Alluka the same treatment and Killua can just see the way she melts in the woman’s embrace. He wonders if he had looked like that, too; as if he’d been submerged in molten sunshine and waves of clean sheets. He probably had.

Soon enough, they’re ushered into the house, Mito-san apologizing for the nonexistent mess and scolding Gon for getting grass stains on the shorts she just washed and offering them all mountains of her cooking - all the things mothers do. Gon’s grandmother wanders into the room and greets everyone warmly. Killua watches Gon press a kiss to the top of her head - he towers over her, now, and he’s got a good few inches on Mito-san, as well.

It’s oddly touching to watch him dutifully grab dishes from the cabinets and carry food in while Mito-san yells instructions at him. He glances at Killua with a resigned smile as he darts back and forth between the dining room and kitchen, and it reminds Killua of the first time he had been here, when Mito-san had nagged Gon to strip off his dirty clothes and get in the bath and do this and do that by the count of ten, _or else_. It’s the nice kind of nagging, though - not the way Killua’s mother would shriek and cry whenever he didn’t listen to her. This is familial. Sweet.

“We’re really so glad you two could come,” Mito-san says sincerely while they eat lunch, resting her cheek in her palm and looking at Killua fondly across the dining room table. Killua tries to smile, his mouth full of rice. “Gon has been talking about it nonstop for the past few weeks.”

Killua almost chokes, then shares a flattered look with Alluka. He turns to see Gon’s reaction.

“ _Mito-san_ ,” Gon whines, flushing red - and _that’s_ interesting to Killua. Gon has never been shy about words or feelings, but Killua supposes a lot has changed since they last saw each other. He doesn’t know Gon as well as he used to, and while it’s more than a little heartbreaking, Killua doesn’t have time to think about it for long. The pretty blush on Gon’s freckled cheeks; the way he pouts in betrayal and mumbles “You _promised_ ,” is too distracting.

“Oops,” Mito-san says innocently, covering her smiling lips with her hand. Gon huffs and shovels more fish into his mouth, risking a glance at Killua and then immediately looking away when he realizes he’s been caught. Killua’s ears burn.

“Must have slipped my mind,” Mito-san adds, and it’s the first completely insincere thing she’s said all day - maybe _ever_. Alluka laughs.

“Killua’s been really excited, too,” she reveals. Killua goes rigid in shock. His entire body is red hot, practically steaming, and he gives his traitorous sister a bitter look. “And so have I! He told me a lot about you, Mito-san. And the island, too.”

Killua bites his lip, and now it’s his turn to glimpse at Gon, except when he is caught, he can’t look away. Gon’s eyes are magnetic like that - like Killua is the arrow on a compass, and Gon is his north.

Mito-san’s head tilts to the side as she laughs fondly. “Well, it’s not much,” Killua hears her say as he and Gon stare at each other across the table, bewitched, and he wonders if they’re talking about the same Whale Island, because the one Killua knows is _everything_ , “but it’s home.”

There’s a few blurred moments where Killua’s heart has that weightless quality to it again and Gon is making some sort of excuse for leaving the table, standing up with his hands flat on its surface, and then is pulling Killua out of his own chair, and soon the front door, by the wrist.

They run. Killua doesn’t know where, but it doesn’t matter. Alluka is calling after them, but it doesn’t matter. Killua’s lungs are raw and breathless, his feet are still bare from when he left his shoes by Mito-san’s front door, his knees still hurt from where they had collided with the hard wooden pier not too long ago - 

It doesn’t matter. All that matters is Gon’s fingers hot and tight around Killua’s wrist. Gon’s ragged breath, matching Killua’s own. Gon’s shoulders, with mossy mountains and vast seas cradled between them, shifting while he runs and Killua runs after him.

Gon jerks his arm and Killua lurches forward. Suddenly they’re running in sync, side by side. Killua looks at Gon. Gon looks at Killua. They laugh so hard their cheeks sting. When Killua trips over a gnarled tree root sticking out of the ground, they laugh harder still.

They laugh and roll in the grass and watch the sun disappear into the sea and laugh more, and as Killua is helplessly, liberatingly gasping for air, he feels like he is truly breathing for the first time.

“I missed you,” Gon admits after a while. Killua’s laughter dies down to soft embers in his lungs and he turns his head to look at Gon instead of the sea of stars above them, cool grass tickling his cheek, only to find that Gon is looking at him, too. Killua feels something warm wrap around his palm, but he doesn’t let himself believe it’s Gon’s hand until he glances down and sees that, miraculously, it is.

“A lot,” Gon continues quietly, vulnerably. Killua says nothing, just watches in fascination as Gon’s grip on his hand tightens, Gon’s trembling thumb following the ridges and valleys of Killua’s knuckles. He hesitates before looking up again and locking eyes with Gon.

Gon opens his mouth to speak again, but the words don’t come, the thoughts in his head don’t translate to speech. Killua relates.

They still, listening to the crickets and watching glowing fireflies join the stars above them. Killua’s heart flutters urgently, as if there’s something he should be doing,  only he isn’t sure what. His hand is starting to go numb in Gon’s, damp with sweat, almost uncomfortable. He doesn’t dream of pulling away.

 _Do it_ , Killua thinks and blinks in confusion, his heart rate spiking dramatically, but _do what?_ Gon adjusts his hold on Killua’s hand, and suddenly, Killua understands.

 _Do it_.

Killua gulps silently, slowly filling the spaces between Gon’s fingers with his. He hears Gon’s breath hitch, feels his own quicken. He turns slowly, face heavy with color, eyes unsure. “G-Gon?”

Fireflies continue to waltz overhead, lighting candles in Gon’s eyes as he looks at Killua, unguarded and glowing. “Yeah?” Gon questions, voice clear even among the chirping crickets and distant waves lapping at the shore.

Killua feels suddenly out of breath. “Um,” he says hoarsely, his whole body quivering as it turns on its side, completely facing Gon. “I, uh.” He reaches up to touch Gon’s cheek with his unheld hand, his nerves exploding with heat where they had been chilled from the grass underneath him before. “Um,” he repeats, barely above a whisper, leaning in close so Gon’s cool breath is on his cheek, his eyes sliding shut. His nose brushes Gon’s, his fingers curl against the side of Gon’s face, and his hand squeezes Gon’s tight, as if he’s distracting himself from incoming pain.

He holds still, breath shuddering. Gon is motionless below him, his hand firm. “I missed you, too,” Killua mumbles and suddenly, Gon tilts his chin up.

Their lips touch, so quickly that Killua doesn’t have time to see sparks or fall under a spell, but it _does_ steal his breath, it _does_ make his toes curl, it _does_ make him want to try again, but it’s over before it begins.

“Um,” Killua laughs nervously. He looks off to the side awkwardly, face burning, but then he hears something kind of like a sneeze and turns to see Gon covering his mouth with his hand, snorting with laughter. Killua stiffens for a moment, but the sight of Gon trying to keep his manic giggling under control is enough to chisel his embarrassment to bits, and suddenly he’s giggling too, his nose repeatedly bumping against Gon’s, until the only thing he can concentrate on is the sound of him and Gon howling with laughter. He can barely tell whose voice is whose anymore, they’re so close, so harmonized.

While they laugh, Gon’s hand finds the back of Killua’s head, pulling him down, and Killua is finally actually kissing him. It’s messier this time; neither of them can stop laughing long enough to kiss properly, but it’s perfect and weird and Killua welcomes it. Gon cups Killua’s face in his warm hands and kisses him and kisses him and kisses him dizzy, smiling all the while. Killua tries to reciprocate, pushing his chin forward and pressing his trembling lips against Gon’s, having no idea what he’s doing but needing to do it anyway.

The kissing dies down, but Killua’s heart still soars. After they break apart, Killua keeps his eyes closed, his forehead resting against Gon’s. He matches his breathing, places his palm over his chest to feel his heartbeat. It takes a moment for Killua to open his eyes again, and when he does, Gon is grinning so wide his face is mostly teeth, and before Killua even realizes it, he’s grinning right back.

They giggle and they kiss and Gon gets more grass stains on his shorts and Killua’s hair is messier than usual, but when Mito-san and Alluka watch the boys stumble through the front door, their bare feet caked with dirt and lips kiss-bitten and voices hoarse from laughing, they do so with twin smiles on their knowing faces.

Alluka watches the boys clamber up the stairs, taking turns giggling and shushing each other, and asks Mito-san if they could extend their stay - possibly to forever.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> so this is my first hunter x hunter fic and also the longest fucking thing ive ever written. no for real this took fucking forever to get done. i havent seen my family in months. they are starving.
> 
> anyway find me on tumblr @ my [main blog](http://eijier.tumblr.com///) or my [art blog](http://luftballons99.tumblr.com/) so we can talk headcanons and cry and you can look at my dumb drawings
> 
> oh, also, i made a playlist for optimal Suffering. enjoy. (seriously though thank you for reading this fic is actually super important to me so if you liked it thats really cool)
> 
> i. Monster - Imagine Dragons  
> ii. Summer Skeletons - Radical Face  
> iii. Rivers and Roads - The Head and the Heart  
> iv. Road Regrets - Dan Mangan  
> v. It All Starts Here - Magic Man  
> vi. Love - American Authors  
> vii. First Day Of My Life - Bright Eyes  
> viii. Camp Adventure - Delta Sleep  
> ix. Here Comes the Sun - The Beatles  
> x. Demons - Imagine Dragons  
> xi. Somewhere Only We Know - Keane  
> xii. Little Lion Man - Mumford and Sons  
> xiii. Way Back When - Grizfolk  
> xiv. Carry On - fun.


End file.
